Purifying Flame
by Jomel10
Summary: Sequel to Burning Star. The remaining Killjoys & their friends are plotting the perfect rescue mission – to save Exterminator Michael. Only problem is, is there anything left of Mikey to save? And the rebels are about to get the shock of their lives... Maybe more than one. Warnings: Dark, Sexual Abuse, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Adult themes, Torture, Violence, Swearing. Chapter 14 up.
1. Chapter 1

**Evening all :) Hope everybody is okay! Right then, here's the first chapter of the sequel to Burning Star. There will be the usual warnings in this one - noncon/rape/violence/slash/swearing - all the juicy stuff basically! Not quite as much Victim!Gerard as Burning Star though... he'll be kicking some ass in this one - once he wakes up, obviously ;)  
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**I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who read Son of a Gun, especially if you reveiewed. I really appreciate all of you guys support. This story is the third in the series... the order goes: Son of a Gun, Burning Star and Purifying Flame. It's a good idea to read the other two stories before this one or you really won't know whats going on!  
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******Disclaimer: I do not own My Chemical Romance, Green Day or anyone else you recognise! The Killjoys and St Jimmy are not mine. Dammit.**

**Thanks to Amy for betaing for me! Love ya!  
**

**Okay - enjoy and please review! I really want you guys to enjoy this as much as Burning Star so please leave reviews! I'll be aiming to update once a week :)  
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**Purifying Flame**

**Chapter One.**

_There was always only darkness._

_Far and wide, for as far as he could see, if he could see, there was only the black, and the cold, and the never ending nothing. He wanted to remember when there was more, wanted to remember who he was and who they were, the faces he couldn't see any more. Were they still calling to him? What name did they say? It hurt to think about it. He needed to see them again. They were part of him, they made him complete._

_'Well, is it hard understanding I'm incomplete?'_

_Who was he? Why was he trapped? Why was he alone?_

_He was standing, he was sure of that, but not moving. He couldn't feel his body, couldn't reach oand touch. There was nothing to touch, or see, or hear. There was only silence. He couldn't hear his own breathing. Was he dead? _

_He wasn't dead, was he?_

_There had been someone near him, someone had been holding him, so close, so tightly. Someone had loved him. Who was that? He wanted to see that man's face, hold that man's hand, to know that he was no longer alone, but he wasn't there now. He'd left him forever, and there was no going back. No returning to the light._

_There was only the dark._

_Wait. What was that? The noise coming closer, getting louder. A sound. Something, at last._

_Laughter. Soft, but getting clearer. A chuckle, a cold, cruel snickering that was eating up his very soul, causing the dread to increase. It was creeping up inside him, holding him in its clutches. He couldn't escape, he would never escape._

_The evil man. The man who would not die._

_The laughter was all around him now._

_And suddenly, he's there. He can feel him, he's going to touch him, hurt him, possess him._

_He wants to run, has to get away, but he has no body, he had no where to go._

_'No. Please. Not again.'_

_'You're mine.'_

_That face. Right in front of him. In the blackness. _

_He's there. He's always there._

_He screamed._

She was watching him. Her perfect prisoner. Comatose and helpless. Just the way she liked them. She could have sworn that there was a flicker on that face, a deepness in his eyes that just could not have been there. He was finished, nothing but her own private entertainment, ready to be disposed of when there was nothing left to learn. He would not wake up, because he couldn't. Everything that had made this man dangerous had been taken from him.

She glanced at the machine beside his head, watching the red light flicker, as it ripped the last pieces of information she required from his brain. Soon, she could end it. Soon, he would no longer be needed. And then, her Michael would be hers completely.

The Coordinator smiled to herself. Her boy would wake soon and it would not do for her not be beside him when he did so. Michael loved his schedule, loved everything to be just right. And he loved her.

She would bring him to this room, and order him to destroy his old life, and she would stand by and watch him give in to her utterly.

And Gerard Way would die.

She chuckled.

"Sleep well, rebel," she whispered.

With a toss of her hair, she turned her back on him, lying prone and forgotten on the plain white table, and walked toward the door.

She didn't hear the sounds. She couldn't. She needed to listen with more than just her ears, she needed to listen with the soul that no longer existed.

Then she could have noticed him dreaming.

And maybe even had heard his screams.

XXX

Frank was curled up, staring out of the window, a cigarette hanging from his lips. He gazed, watching the rain falling, and remembering. It was one of those strange nights, when the acid rain came, relentless and deadly. Anyone caught out in the storm tonight would not survive. The acid rainfall was the worst, just another reminder of how much they, everyone, had fucked the world up. They were in a rebel base, a small factory on the borders of Zones two and three. One of the few places "Exterminator Michael" had not yet ambused. Frank sat by himself, away from the rest of his friends, who were all grouped around Dr Death Defying, and allowed his mind to take him back. Back to before the rain came, and the bombs, and Better Living. Back to when Gerard and Mikey had still been there...

_He saw them all, the way they had been, happy, and satisfied. Unaware of what was about to happen. He was sitting, facing Gerard, who was flicking through a comic book, pausing to share a page with Mikey, who was sat beside his brother. Ray was standing, hovering by the open doorway, can of Lager in his hand, taking swigs and laughing at whoever was standing just beyond the door. Probably Bob._

_Frank remembered feeling like nothing could touch them. They were on top of the world and would be together forever. There was nothing particularly special about that moment, just one that stuck in his memory. Just sitting backstage before a Black Parade show, laughing, talking, taking the piss out of each other. Happy and content._

_He smiled, recalling how he could have sworn he had seen Gerard looking at him out of the corner of his eye, but when he had turned to look directly at his lead singer, the dark haired man had quickly looked away..._

"Frankie?"

Frank looked up quickly, abruptly brought out of his musings, to see Ray eyeing him cautiously. He gave Ray a timid smile, and then lowered his head.

"You okay, man?" Ray asked, softly.

Frank could only nod. After all, they both knew any positive answer he gave would be a lie. Because, he wasn't okay, and neither was Ray. They missed Gerard and Mikey more than either of them could stand. They were both grateful that they had each other, Ray had believed himself to be completely alone only three weeks previously, before Frank came crashing back into his life, but that didn't stop the pain. They gave each other strength and the will to go on, but it wasn't enough. Their lovers were gone. They had been a team, a family and they knew that even if they could recover Mikey, there was no bringing Gerard back. The four of them would never be together again.

And that realisation hurt like hell.

Ray grasped Frank's shoulder and gave him a squeeze. "You better join in with this, buddy." Ray muttered. "We're figuring ways of getting into the city-"

Frank scoffed, and he ignored the agitation that flashed across his friend's face. "Ray, we've talked about this for three fucking weeks. Getting into the city ain't the problem. Getting out again might be more of an issue. You don't just walk in and out of Better Living..."

"Thanks for being so fucking helpful, Frank. Anything else you wanna offer? I'm sure you got plenty more doom and gloom to share, y'know?"

Frank glared over at Billie Joe Armstrong, who was staring angrily back, hands planted firmly on his hips.

Billie hadn't finished. "We've sat tight for three fucking weeks, Iero! How much longer do you want to sit and gaze out of the window for?" He lowered his voice. "If it were both Way brothers we were planning to save, maybe it would be different-"

Frank jumped to his feet. "What the fuck did you just say, Armstrong?"

Ray let out a weary sigh. Great. Time for yet another argument...

Frank and Billie had been arguing constantly for the last three weeks, once almost coming to blows. Frank had not been himself since they had reunited. He was clearly devastated about Gerard, and the fact that nothing he could do would ever bring Gerard back to him. Ray's heart ached for Frank. He could only guess at how difficult it must be, all this talk of saving Mikey, who Ray knew Frank adored, but it only would hit home for Frank even more that there was no helping Gerard, no chance to have his love back. Ray didn't know if Mikey was still in there to be saved, but he had a chance. While there was life, there was hope.

There was no such hope for Frank.

And now, Ray was between a furious Frank and exasperated Billie Joe once again. Billie had run out of patience with Frank. Ray couldn't blame him. Frank wasn't the only one to have lost their lover, after all. It was Billie that tended to get through to Frank, reminding him that Tre was gone too. He had convinced the broken man that they all had to keep on fighting, fighting to bring down the company that had cost them Gerard, Tre, Bert and so many others.

And those words were what Frank seemed to be remembering right now. Billie too. The former front man took a deep breath, and then took a step toward Frank.

"I know it hurts," he whispered. "Bad. It feels like your whole fucking heart is dying inside your chest and every fucking day it's like a huge black hole is trying to swallow you up. I know that, Frank. But we need you. Mikey needs you. Are you with us on this?"

Frank didn't speak, but just glanced down at the ground for a few seconds. Finally, he stood up and walked over to the others, taking his place beside Ray. They nodded at him appreciatively, and then finally the Doc spoke up.

"You said you had a idea, Billie? Lets hear it."

Billie nodded. "Okay, Doc, you know I've got people on the inside, right?"

The Doc inclined his head in agreement, watching intently.

Billie continued. "All the information we've been gathering lately has come from them and they've really come through for us. They have a way of getting in and out of the City, through a small school in the rear of the complex. We can get in, get Mikey, get out. No bloodshed, no fuss, no aggro. It's perfect and I know we can do this!" He looked around excitedly, his expectant expression fading slightly when he saw uncertainty on his fellow rebel's faces. He had apparently expected them to like the sound of his idea. He turned his full attention on Mike, and pouted.

"Well, Mike? What do you think?"

Mike frowned. "I dunno, BJ. I know you trust these people, but this is a fucking dangerous mission, and you're asking our friends to put their lives on the line..." He paused, scratching at the back of his head. "Not all of your ideas have come off before, buddy. We've gotta be sure about this."

Billie rounded on him. "You think I'd fucking suggest this if I wasn't one hundred percent certain these guys are the real deal? We've been working on this for three fucking weeks, y'know! These guys provided me with info we'd have never had gotten to if it weren't for them! You have no fucking idea how important some of that has been! They've gone out on a limb to get food and drink out to us, to rebel families, y'know? These are good people, Mike. I know this can work." He glanced down. "I thought you at least would believe in me."

Mike shook his head. "Come on man, you know I'd follow you to hell and back. Fuck, I have done enough times before! But there's a lot riding on this..." He glanced over at the Killjoys, swallowing hard. "You know I'd support you to the end, Bill. I just wanna know that you have no doubts whatsoever before we get past the point of no return."

Billie nodded furiously. "I know we can pull this off. Get in there, grab Mikey, get out. Very little fuss, no blood spilt. We can do it."

Mike waved a hand in surrender. "Then I believe you, Billie. Of course I'm with you."

Doctor Death had listened to the exchanges silently. Finally, he spoke up. "It seems to be the only option to me."

Ray nodded. "Agreed. It's definitely a better plan then going in all guns blazing-"

"I don't like it," Frank spoke up, staring straight ahead. "I don't trust anybody, especially some fucker I've never met before, working for the scum company. I don't really want to put my life in their hands, y'know?"

Billie glowered over at the unimpressed Killjoy.

"Do you have a better idea?"

"I do actually."

"Oh? Lets fucking hear it then!"

"We could walk right in there and blow the bastards away."

An uncomfortable silence fell on the room at Frank's suggestion.

Finally, Ray gave him a wary look. "We can't mount a full scale attack on them, Frank. We don't have the man power and even if we did, we'd be so outnumbered it would be-"

"Suicide," Frank finished for him. "I know that, Ray. But to trust some stranger to get us right into the heart of the fucking citadel, someone we've never even spoken to. I don't like it."

Billie took a step forward then. He cleared his throat, and then addressed Frank:

"What would Gerard have done?"

Frank bristled at the mention of the name, but then calmed himself, and actually thought about Billie's words.

Finally, he replied, so softly: "He'd have gone with it. He'd have saved Mikey."

Billie nodded. "Right, that's what I fucking think too. So, why don't we do this for him? Make him fucking proud?" He swallowed hard. "Make them all proud."

Frank fought back his own tears that threatened to spill, and then he nodded his head aggressively. He reached out and grasped Ray's hand, who gave his a strong squeeze in return.

Frank's eyes blazed as he stared, unflinchingly, at Billie Joe.

"_Lets fucking do this." _

XXX

Grace was sat by herself, no other kid anywhere near her. It was lunchtime and she was perched near the school facility, watching some of the other children playing and screaming. And laughing. She envied them for that. This was how it had been for her, since the day she had arrived at this place, three long weeks ago. Even the girl, Bandit, who had been so kind to her to begin with had drifted away, finding Grace's constant silence and unpleasantness impossible to deal with. Grace had liked that, being left alone. Just her and her thoughts. If only it had stayed like that.

A week into her stay, things had changed. The bullying had begun. One kid in particular, a boy, Jonas, who she guessed was around fourteen years old, old enough to know better, had decided she was an easy target. It had been sniggering while she was in earshot to begin with, laughing at her hair and her clothes, then mocking her efforts in the classroom, or lack of effort. Learning was not something she could be bothered with – she didn't intend to be there long - so their immature goading of her was nothing she couldn't handle. But then, Jonas and his cronies had grown bolder, especially as their teacher seemed too weak to prevent their horrible behaviour, and the emotional abuse had soon turned physical. They tripped her up when she walked past, pulled her hair, shoved her to the ground. Sometimes, she caught Bandit looking over, and felt that the girl was building up the courage to intervene. Grace kinda hoped that she didn't. She was the only person there the Killjoy respected. She didn't want to see her hurt.

Grace had not responded to the bullying. She'd shaken her fro-ed head and had turned away each time, fighting the urge to retaliate. Sometimes, she imagined them there, beside her, staring down her bullies, fighting alongside her and giving her strength. She could see their smiles, hear their voices. Her Killjoys. Her heroes.

"C'mon Gracie, show 'em what you've got!"

She laughed. Party was still there for her. They were all still there.

But when she looked up, of course, they weren't there. They'd never be there for her again. She knew she was being weak and childish. She could almost hear Party's scolding words in her ear:

"_Come on, kiddo. This isn't you. Get your head up and show these City bastards what being a Killjoy is all about..."_

She closed her eyes tightly, no longer able to hold back the tears. She'd lost him. She's lost all of them. And there was no bringing them back, no one coming to rescue her. Not this time. She would do her heroes proud, and get through this.

For them, she would give it her best shot.

"Hey, freak! I'm talking to you, Zone Runner!"

Grace let out a deep sigh. _Not again._ She rubbed quickly at her red eyes with the back of her hand, and then looked up in the direction of her approaching tormentors. She had expected this. It happened everyday after all.

"I'm talking to you, freak!" The boy hissed to her. "What's wrong? Has the poor little Zone rat been crying?"

Grace balled her small hands into fists and glared furiously at the kid who had decided his personal purpose in that school was to make her life a complete misery.

"Get away from me," she snapped, cringing at how pathetic she sounded. "Just leave me alone."

Jonas giggled gleefully, while his friends stood behind him, whispering and snickering. He was a big boy for his ages, with messy raven coloured hair, and a very cruel smirk plastered permantently on his lips. He enjoyed lording it over all of the smaller children, and had apparently taken a real dislike to Grace. He crossed his arms as he regarded her. "You're always on your own, Rat, or haven't you noticed? Wondered why no one wants to be friends with you? It's because no one wants to be near some stinking little zone scum like you."

Grace got to her feet and took a threatening step forward. "I said: leave me alone, you clone, or I'll kill you!"

That made them laugh louder.

"You'll kill me?" He taunted. "I'm so scared." He pushed his hair back from his face. "From what I've heard, you're the only one of your little Zone buddies still alive. Why don't you go join them? Do everyone a favour!"

Grace couldn't help herself, and let out a low sob. She could still feel them beside her. Party Poison, Fun Ghoul, Kobra Kid and Jet Star. Her best friends, her family, always close by, always watching over her.

And she needed them.

They'd left her alone. Why hadn't they taken her with them?

"Say something, Rat;" Jonas hissed, getting in her face. "Tell me all about Party Poison. You should hear what my Dadda says about him..."

She felt the anger coursing through her. "Don't talk about Party Poison."

He laughed. "Why not? He was nothing but a wimp. He died begging the company to-"

She'd heard enough. This kid was asking for it. She struck, slapping him hard across the face. He recoiled, taken by surprise. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing his friends staring at him, unsure. Then, he recovered.

He grabbed for Grace, gripping her by the hair and dragging her toward him. Then, he punched her in the face. She gasped, struggling in his grip. He grinned at her, and prepared to hit her again, but he never got the opportunity.

A small bundle of fury suddenly threw itself onto Jonas, forcing him to release Grace. Jonas gasped in shock, totally bewildered by the storm that had just descended on him. Bandit was hitting, scratching and slapping at the bully, pushing him further away from Grace.

"I hate you!" She was yelling. "Just leave her alone!"

Finally, the boy got the upper hand and shoved out at Bandit, sending her sprawling to the ground. He saw his chums were now laughing at him, and he seethed, surging forward, this time towards Bandit. She leapt to her feet again, and simply stared at him. The look in her eyes brought him to an abrupt halt. Grace saw the fire there and she shivered. She recognised it, that look and she watched Bandit intently. There was something so familiar about the girl. Something that Grace simply couldn't ignore.

Jonas had apparently had enough. He glowered at Bandit and Grace, and then turned back to his group, who were still doing their best not to show their obvious amusement at their leader being attached by a tiny, incensed, eight year old.

"Lets go, gang;" Jonas bristled, actually clicking his fingers. "These are just stupid little kids. They aren't worth our time!" And with that, he whirled round and took off, his yes-men following him hurriedly, not looking back at Bandit and Grace.

When she was sure they were gone, Bandit finally turned to look at Grace, a gentle smile on her face.

"Are you okay?" She asked quietly, helping Grace up.

"Yeah," Grace said. "I'm fine."

Bandit nodded. "You should ignore them, you know." She whispered. "They're just dumb asses."

Grace smiled. "I didn't like them talking about my friends," she muttered, then looked down.

"Your friends are dead?" Bandit asked simply.

Grace looked up, surprised, and then let out a weary sigh. "Two of them were killed by BL/I. The other is as good as and the last one? I really don't know." She swallowed hard. "I think so." She frowned as one solitary tear escaped and ran down her face. She wiped it away angrily. "They were all I had."

Bandit glanced away. "I know how you feel. My parents are dead too."

"I'm sorry," Grace told the other girl, and found she genuinely was. "How did they die?"

Bandit shrugged, fighting back tears of her own. "It was a long time ago, I don't remember them that well. Only flashes. They told me they were murdered by Zone runners years ago. I've been here for years, all by myself."

Grace looked across at Bandit, who now had her back to her. Very carefully, she reached out and took the dark haired girl's hand. Bandit didn't respond immediately but then, squeezed her hand in response.

They two girls then faced each other, smiled, and then hugged, holding each other tightly. When they pulled away again, they remained holding hands, neither wanting to lose the closeness they felt to the other.

After a little giggle, Bandit spoke up.

"I'm so hungry! Lets go get something to eat?"

Grace nodded, and together, they raced off.

XXX

Michael yawned, and stretched. He blinked a couple of times, and then opened his eyes. He looked around at the splendour around him, exactly what would be expected inside the Coordinator's private quarters. Everything was white, of course. The walls, the furniture, the ceiling. Eveything about the city was white. Any other colour would show originality, which was strictly forbidden.

He climbed out of bed, shivering due to his nakedness, and hurriedly pulled on his dressing gown. Michael frowned. The air conditioning was too cold in there, as usual. Michael crossed the room, stopping in front of the large mirror, staring at his reflection. He swallowed painfully, suddenly thinking about the dream he'd had that night. It had been that man again, the man with the shocking red hair, the man he knew so well but didn't recognise. He couldn't understand it. It was the same dream every night. The red haired man, calling to him, pleading for help and using a name Michael didn't know. He did not know this man. He couldn't help him. Couldn't get to him.

The door opened behind him, and he looked round quickly. The Coordinator had entered the room as silently as ever, and was smiling at him sweetly. She walked over to him, and kissed the back of his neck possessively.

"Good morning." She said, breathlessly. "That was a wonderful night last night, Michael." She stroked his hair. "Did you enjoy it too? Tell me you did?"

"Yes, I did," he said, emotionless. "I always do."

"You're mine," she hissed, in his ear, and then turned him round to face her. Her eyes flashed when she saw the nasty looking scratch on his chest, where she'd left her mark. She traced her finger down the red line gently. "All mine."

She kissed him then, forcing her tongue down his throat. He returned the kiss, but with no passion, and kept his eyes open, staring toward the open door. Finally, she released him, and gave him a knowing smile.

"The Saint wants to see both of us, Michael, in the holding cells. Get yourself ready and then meet me outside. Be quick, Saint seemed to be excited about something."

She began to walk away from him then, but Michael, steeling his nerve, called out after her:

"May I ask you something, Ma'am?"

She paused, looking back at him. "Anything, my love."

"Do you ever have dreams?"

The smile faded from her face. "Dreams are banned in the City, Michael, as you well know."

He bit his lip. "Yes, madam, but I have a recurring dream. Every single night. There's a red haired man and-" He broke off, seeing her expression. She looked furious, as if she wanted to attack him. He had never felt so uncomfortable in her presence. "I don't know what it means-"

"It means nothing!"

"But I don't know who-"

"Forget your dreams, Michael."

He blinked. "Why?"

She pursed her lips together. She did not appreciate him questioning her. "They are not real. They are not important. They are lies." She tilted her head slightly, contemplating him. "The drugs we take should allow us clear, worry free nights. I will increase your dosage." She reached out and touched his cheek. "That should deal with the problem."

He gazed at her, opened his mouth, as if he wanted to question further, but then changed his mind.

"Yes ma'am."

The Coordinator smiled. "That's my boy." She placed her hand on his cheek. "Now, get dressed and get ready. I will see you outside in ten minutes."

And with that, she turned on her heel and walked away from him, slamming the door loudly behind her, making him cringe.

He gazed after her for a moment, trying to figure out why she was so furious with him and drawing a blank.

Why did dreams matter so much anyway?

Michael turned back to the mirror, and sighed. He looked so tired, so pale, so _weak. _

He was an Exterminator. He was trained to be the best. He was trained to obey.

He knew all dreams were banned. No one in the city suffered with them, so why did he?

As he stared on, and his reflection gazed back, he had the same question burning inside of him.

'Who are you?'

The weirdest thing was, he felt that the answer was in his dreams.

The answer was the red haired man.

And one thing Michael knew, with absolute clarity, was that he wanted to see the man again.

He had to keep on dreaming. Even if it meant disobeying her.

He would not take the drugs. The idea of that scared him, but he _had_ to know what the dreams meant.

And why the red haired man called him that name. The name he finally remembered. The name that she forbade him to even think about, let alone use. Yet something deep inside him told him it was his name, the name _he _called him, with so much love.

_'Mikey Way.'_

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Evening people! Everyone enjoying the Olympics? :) Finally got this second chapter sorted! No warnings for this one... things are still building up!  
**

**HbdiebkjdnbkiWEH: Here you go! And yes, lots of Frank angst to come!**

**Dalamanza: Oh hi again! Good to see you reviewing again, hun! Things will get moving pretty quickly, promise! Enjoy this chapter :)**

**OMG: Here's the next chapter then! :) Enjoy...**

**Dh: Thank you! :)**

**Animebiersack98: Hi hun :) Sorry for the long wait and glad you weren't disappointed! Enjoy this chapter!**

**StrawberryBubble: Hi again hun. You have no idea how much your comments mean to me :) Never think you sound weird, it means a lot to know how much you were looking forward to this :) And you like it! Thank God! Its not going to be so easy for Mikey to get his memories back, but he does know he doesnt want to be the man they turned him into – which is good! Gerard will wake up, I can promise you that. And he might be fed up of being a victim when he does... :) Enjoy this chapter! :)**

**ThroughTheStatic: Thanks so much, glad you liked! I wanted to get this start right :) Hope you like this second chapter :)**

**Thanks again to Amy for checking this through for me! Love you hun!**

** Enjoy all!**

**Purifying Flame**

**Chapter Two**

It was a hot, dusty day. Obviously to be expected, seeing as how he was walking so close to the perimeter of the City. It was always hot and dusty by the Zones. There was no air-conditioning, no clean air in this part of the City. Michael tended to keep away from there usually but this was different. He had found himself with some spare time unexpectedly, being told by the Co-ordinator that his presence in the Detention Centre was not required for an hour, so he had decided, much to his chagrin, that he would like to visit the girl he brought with him from the rebel base, and see how she was doing. He didn't know why he was concerned with her, she was a rebel and therefore scum, but he also felt inexplicably connected to her. He had saved her, after all, returning her to her rightful place in the City rather than running with the rest of the rebel rats.

_The Killjoys. _Why did they bother him so? The dreams he was having, the red haired man, the man that was so familiar – Michael was certain he was a Killjoy. And then, there was the rebel that Michael decided to spare back at that base. Why did he do that, ignoring, no, _disobeying, _his orders?

Why was he suddenly having doubts?

He gave his head a shake, trying to clear his thoughts, as he paused just inside the school grounds. He leaned against the large gates, looking in with interest. Then, he saw her. The girl he had come all the way out to the edge of the City to see. Grace. She looked up and saw him, giving a small gasp. She rushed to the gate, a beaming smile on her face.

"Mikey!" She gasped, "You came!"

He frowned. "My name is Michael," he corrected her, and her smile faltered.

"You're still mean." She said, sadly. And took a few steps back.

He raised an eyebrow. "How are you?" He asked, his arms placed behind his back.

Grace shrugged. "Bored."

He couldn't help but smile slightly at that. "You are being treated properly?"

She nodded. "Miss Shona is lovely."

"Good," he told her. He hesitated, before adding; "If anyone hurts you, or mistreats you, do not be afraid to contact me for help. I wish you to be happy here, Grace."

She stared at him then. "Why?"

He blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Why do you care?"

He didn't know how to answer her. He hesitated, and then looked up quickly when another young girl with dark hair, looking around the same age as Grace, ran up to stand beside her friend, eyeing Michael cautiously.

"We have to get inside, Grace," the girl was saying, tugging on the other girl's hand. "It's nearly time for the curfew."

Michael knew this girl was correct. Both of them needed to get inside before the Draculoids began their rounds. He indicated to Grace.

"Your friend is right, you should get inside."

"Rules never used to be a problem for you, Mikey."

He frowned, ready to correct her again, but then saw her friend was staring at him, her eyes wide. He glared back, tilting his head slightly.

"What is your name?" He asked her.

She swallowed hard, afraid of him, naturally.

He waited and finally, she answered him.

"Bandit."

He furrowed his brow. He couldn't stop staring. There was something about this girl. Something he couldn't quite pin down about her. He didn't recognise her but she seemed familiar. "Have I seen you before?" He asked, softly.

She shook her head, and then lowered her eyes.

He watched her for a few moments more, and then turned back to Grace.

"Goodnight, Grace."

She gave him a small smile. He turned his back on her, ready to head off to the Detention Unit and put all this strangeness behind him. "Goodnight," he heard her whisper, surprised to hear the whimper in her voice; "Mikey Way."

He stopped dead, and looked back at her quickly. She stared at him, and then turned, grabbing Bandit's hand again and together, they raced away.

Michael watched them go, still confused. He had been called that name before. By the red haired man in his dreams. But they were just dreams... weren't they? He didn't understand and, more importantly, he was scared. Emotions were a weakness, that was what he'd always been taught but none of those lessons were helping him now.

Just what was happening to him?

He heard a noise and instantly picked his gaze up once more. He was shocked to see a woman, dressed all in black, walking quickly toward the gates. Realising she hadn't seen him, he crept into the shadows, staying out of sight. He looked on, surprised, as the woman unlocked the gate and stepped out, gazing around, looking out for any sign. He frowned, knowing he should stop her. It was curfew, where was she going? Surely not leaving the City? That was strictly forbidden.

She locked the gates again behind her, and then ran across the sand heading, as Michael had expected, straight for the City walls. She didn't get very far though, as, not to Michael's surprise, a Draculoid approached her. The Exterminator watched as the Guard questioned where she was going, saw the woman reply but couldn't hear her.

He considered going over, to intervene, when the Draculoid suddenly drew out a shooter gun, one that Michael recognised as a prototype that was not supposed to yet be seen in public. He frowned, as the Drone took hold of the woman's arm, pushed up her sleeve, and injected her.

He watched, sickened, as the woman fell too the ground and screamed and screamed, the Draculoid standing over her, shouting its question at her repeatedly: "Why were you leaving City Grounds?"

She was pleading, and whimpering, and sobbing. There was no sympathy from the Clone.

When she had finally grown still, the creature reached for her once more, again raising the shooter gun, prepared to use it again.

The Exterminator had seen enough.

"Stop!"

Michael rushed forward, grabbing the Shooter Gun and ripping it from the Drac's grip. It looked at him, and then stepped back, bowing its head in respect.

"What is happening?" He demanded. "This is a school building, therefore protected from the torture devices. What reason do you have to use such torture drugs here?"

"This worker was attempting to leave the confines of the city, Sir." It explained in its monotone voice. "The curfew is in place. Exterminator Saint ordered that we use the Torture Guns on any Citizens who try to leave after dark. Including the school buildings."

Michael glared at the drone.

"It's not dark!"

The Draculoid paused for a moment. "It is past the curfew, Sir."

Michael shook his head in annoyance and then stared down at the pitiful figure at this feet. He moved ever closer to the trembling, whimpering woman, and then knelt down beside her, offering his hand.

She gaped at him for a moment, and then took his hand as he pulled her up, back onto her feet.

"Why do you wish to leave the City?" He asked her.

She hesitated, and then replied. "My mother is very ill, Sir. She lives in a small town in Zone Two. I've heard word that she may die tonight. I know I'm breaking regulations but please," her voice broke, "please let me go to her." He felt something churning inside of him, he felt... _empathy._

"The rules are in place for your own safety," he told her. "It is so dangerous in the Zones after dark. Rebels may-"

"Attack me?" She interrupted, her lips actually curling slightly. "I don't think they could do anything to me to beat the pain I just felt." She paused, before adding; "Sir."

Michael contemplated her silently. "What is your name?"

She seemed to ponder his question, gazing into his eyes, before replying. "Shona."

He nodded. "You have permission to leave the City, Shona," he said softly, ignoring the sideways glance the drone threw him.

Shona gaped at him.

He jerked his head. "Go."

She stared at him for a few seconds more, and then inclined her head in acknowledgement, and then turned away from him, and ran.

Michael watched her progress and then glanced over at the Draculoid, discovering that the drone was watching him, and waiting.

"What?" He snapped to the clone beside him.

"Sir, what are your instructions?"

Michael eyed him wearily. "Go on to the Detention Centre," he ordered. "The Co-ordinator is waiting. Move!"

The Draculoid didn't argue. It marched off at once, heading in the direction of the detention units.

Michael stared after the drone, bringing a shaky hand up to his forehead, removing his mask momentarily and wiping away the sweat, before replacing the plastic disguise. What had he just done? That woman had broken the curfew, trying to leave the City late in the day. That was a punishable offence and she was getting what she deserved. Why had he felt so sick watching her punishment? It was almost as if he had known what she was going through, as if he had experienced her pain for himself... But that was impossible. He had never felt the force of the torture drug. He closed his eyes, and tried to steady his beating heart. He had felt sympathy for that woman. It was not right for him to feel anything for a worker. They didn't matter.

They were beneath him. He was an Exterminator.

But then, why had he _cared_?

Why was he dreaming? No one dreamt in the City. Why was he not taking the drugs prescribed to him?

What was he even _doing_ there? Visiting the Killjoy child? Why? She was nothing to him.

The Killjoys were nothing to him.

What the hell was _wrong_ with him?

With a deep breath, he began to walk away, following the Draculoid he had just sent away. He didn't notice the man skulking in the shadows, watching him intently. He didn't sense any danger as he rushed on, knowing it would not do to keep the Co-ordinator waiting for him.

Saint, stepping out of the shadows, watching him go, not speaking, lost in his thoughts. Then, he brought his wrist communicator up to his lips, and pressed a button. He heard to bleeps, and then, the Co-ordinator's voice, high and shrill, rang out to him.

"_Report!_"

"Co-ordinator, I must talk to you."

"_Saint, I am meeting you in the Detention Area in five minutes-"_

He pursed his lips together. "I mean, just us."

There was a pause. "_Without Michael_?"

He balled his hands into fists. "I just watched him stop a female worker receiving punishment. He is breaking protocols and regulations as he feels fit, Ma'am."

"_I allow him, and you, the power to punish as you wish_-"

"Ma'am, my point is-"

Her voice shook with emotion and anger as she snapped; "_I don't want to hear it, Saint-_"

The masked Exterminator's hand trembled as he spoke again into his transporter, trying to get through to the woman who simply didn't want to listen.

"Ma'am, I truly believe that Michael cannot be trusted-"

"_I told you, enough!_" She exclaimed, her voice raised in anger. "_I do not want nor need to hear this. So Michael spared a worker? What is the problem? That is his business. Not mine, nor yours. I have control over him, that has been proved countless times. If you are jealous of him, and his accomplishments, then that is your own problem, not Michael's and certainly not mine._" Her voice lowered, but the warning to her tone remained. "_If you do not drop this, Saint, then perhaps your position in this company will have to be reassessed. Do I make myself clear?"_

Exterminator Saint was shaking. "Perfectly," he spat, in response.

"_Good_," came the clipped reply. _"Now, get to the Detention Unit. Michael is already on his way. I will meet you both there."_ And she disconnected the signal.

Saint lowered his wrist slowly. His cold eyes burned as he glared after Michael furiously.

**XXX**

Frank was walking through the rebel base for what felt like the hundredth time, just walking, unable to simply sit and wait as Ray seemed happy to do. They had been on tenterhooks for hours, waiting for news from Billie Joe's informants as to when, and even if, their plan was a go. Everyone was on edge, everyone needed to feel like they were useful, like they were doing something and to be stuck there, sitting, unable to do anything useful was driving them all mad. Frank, Ray, Billie and Mike could no longer look at each other, let alone speak, so nervous and anxious were they. This plot was about a lot more than retrieving Mikey, a man they didn't even know still existed to save, this was about revenge. For all four of them. Revenge for the losses they had all suffered.

For Gerard, and for Tre.

At long last, they had some news. A visitor arrived at the base, sadly not the rebel they were waiting for, not an update from the City, but it was welcome news nonetheless. Luka had arrived, wanting to help the others in anyway he could. And because of the cold hearted murder of his best friend, Gareth, the ex footballer had his own revenge to seek.

Frank smiled widely as Luka hurried over to him, his arms outstretched in greeting.

"Fun Ghoul," Luka exclaimed, pulling the smaller man into a tight embrace. "It's good to see you. How are you?"

Ghoul pulled back, but kept a hand on Luka's shoulder. Ghoul owed this man, and every other rebel that had helped bring him back from the brink of death, his very life and he knew nothing he could ever say, or do, would make up for what they all did for him. Not that Ghoul would ever stop trying.

"I'm good, thanks buddy."

"No more headaches?"

Ghoul shook his head, and gave him a small smile. "Not for weeks. Thanks to you."

Luka glanced down at that. "I was proud to help you," he told him; "And so was Gareth..."

His voice died away, and for a few seconds, both men were silent.

Gareth had been Luka's best friend, and the Killjoys had met both men at a rebel base a few weeks previously. They had joined with the Killjoys, along with Billie Joe, to help save Frank, who had been kidnapped by Better Living. And both men had played a part in saving Frank's life.

"I'd be dead now if it hadn't been for Gareth," Frank now noted, his head bowed in respect. "Him putting that transporter on me, despite all the danger and madness going on, is the reason I'm still here."

Luka nodded. "He was a brave man. I miss him every day, but I'm very proud to have known him."

Frank swallowed hard, as an image of Gerard, fading away in his arms, flashed before his eyes. "I know what you mean..." He whispered, in a tiny voice.

Luka cleared his throat. "I have heard about the plan to get into the City and I would very much like to join the Rescue Mission, if you would allow me..."

Frank glanced at him then, and couldn't help but frown.

"I don't know, Luka." He offered, quietly. "It will be very dangerous."

Luka bristled. "That didn't stop Gareth going along with Poison to find you."

Frank took a deep breath. "I know that, and I get how much he meant to you. I know he was the last connection to your past, from before the bombs fell, but I don't want you to lose your life because of us, like he did." He reached out and grasped Luka's hand. "Gareth wouldn't want you to throw your life away."

Luka eyed him, the anger still brimming in his eyes. And then, he paused.

"Fun Ghoul," he began. "I do appreciate what you are trying to do for me. But, this is my choice. You lost the man closest to you, but you still fight on against the company, in his name. I would like the opportunity to do the same, and honour my friend as I do so. Please, give me that chance." His eyes flamed. "BL/I killed Gareth. He was all I had, and they murdered him for no reason, because he wasn't important enough to keep alive. I want to help you bring them down, and save your lover's brother at the same time. Please let me join you."

How could Fun Ghoul argue? He knew exactly how Luka felt, and he had no right to deny him the chance to silence his agony.

He nodded to the Croatian, and squeezed his hand. "We'll be proud to have you with us."

Luka let out the deep breath he didn't even realise he was holding in, and gave the other man a relieved smile.

"Thank you, my friend."

Both men suddenly looked up sharply when they heard the sound of some commotion happening close by. They exchanged glances, and then jogged towards the source of the noise, to find Ray and Mike standing with Show Pony and a few other rebels, all of them holding up their ray guns, covering a young woman, who was leaning against a wall, eyeing them all nervously.

"I'll ask you one more time," Show Pony was snarling. "Who are you and why are you here?"

The woman didn't respond, just merely continued to stare ahead. She was breathing hard, her back flat against the wall. She reminded Frank of a trapped animal, caught in the headlights.

"What's going on?" Frank snapped, rushing up to stand alongside Ray, Luka taking his place right behind him. "Who the fuck is this?"

"No idea," Ray told him, not taking his eyes off of the stranger. "She was caught trying to sneak into the base. She's asking to see Billie Joe, won't speak to anyone else."

Frank frowned. "Where is Billie?"

"On his way," Mike spoke up. "He's with Doctor Death, sorting out final preparations."

Suddenly, Billie was there, like a small hurricane, darting into the corridor, alongside the young rebel who had been sent to find him. He looked questionably toward Mike, and then turned toward the young woman, who was now gazing at him with something akin to awe.

"You're him," she muttered. "You're Billie Joe Armstrong, aren't you?"

Billie gave her a wide grin, and rushed over to her, his hand outstretched. She took his hand in hers and gripped it tightly.

"Are you Shona?" The former front man asked gently, leaning into her. "I was expecting you earlier."

She nodded. "I was held up. Sapphire told me to only speak to you, in case the base was compromised. I couldn't risk his or any of my friend's lives. We think the Exterminator's are becoming suspicious of us. I had a run in with a Drac when I tried to get out of the City to come find you." She gave a sideways glance to the other rebels, now watching the exchange closely. "I didn't mean to be rude to them-"

Billie tutted, and then waved away her explanations. "It's fine, darling. Don't worry about them." He gestured towards his compatriots. "They're used to girls being rendered speechless by me, y'know…?"

She giggled. Mike rolled this eyes.

"Get on with it, Bill." He scolded. "Why is she here?"

Shona glanced over at Mike. Now, apparently calmed by Billie Joe's presence, the man she had been sent to find, she seemed happier to respond to all of the rebels.

"My friend, Sapphire, is in charge of the resistance team in the City and he has been in contact with Billie Joe for the last few weeks sending out information, supplies, anything we can find out to help you guys. We've been working hard to pinpoint a route to get you into the City, and we've found a way. There's a school, where I happen to teach. You can get into there through the sewers, past the detention units, going through the bottom level of the City." she glanced over at Ray and Frank. "We'll know where your Exterminator will be, we'll trap him, he'll be waiting for you."

Billie Joe nodded. "Sapphire told me you guys were as ready as you'll ever be. All I need to know is a day and time."

"Tomorrow," she replied, quickly. "Tomorrow at dawn. Get yourselves to the edge of the City, on the outskirts of Zone Three. A group of our people will be waiting for you." She smiled. "We won't let you down, Billie Joe."

He kissed her hand, and she beamed back at him. Frank was struck by how young she was, no older than twenty one and he considered again just how many lives had been destroyed by the mistakes they all had made. It had been a long time since any of the Killjoys had had to concern themselves with the City and the way BL/I treated the poor souls they had left behind when the members of My Chemical Romance were forced to run for the Zones. Very soon, they would have to find out.

"You should go back," Billie was telling Shona. "Before you're missed."

She inclined her head slightly. "My kids will be waiting for me," she agreed. "I don't want to let them down." She glanced away. "Most of them don't have anybody else."

"Thanks for taking the risk to come here," Billie added softly. "It was brave of you."

Shona seemed to hesitate, before replying; "I was seen while heading towards the boundary. A Draculoid used a torture drug on me. It hurt so much."

Frank's head whipped round at her words. "Torture drug? Not a prototype any more then-"

She frowned. "I hadn't seen a shooter gun being used as a weapon before. The Drac injected me and it was like I lost my mind, the pain was too much. Next thing I knew, the pain was fading, I was lying on my back, and an Exterminator was telling the Draculoid to stop..."

Billie Joe's eyes widened. Frank, Ray and Mike were at his side in an instant, all of them stunned, by her words. "An Exterminator stopped the Drac from hurting you?"

Shona looked uncomfortable from the intense looks she was now receiving. "Yes. He helped me up from the floor and told me to go. I had never known kindness from an Exterminator before, I was stunned. But I didn't need telling twice, I looked at him once, saw from his eyes behind his mask that he meant it, and then, I ran." She bowed her head.

Ray and Frank were staring at each other, renewed hope and belief growing within both of them thanks to her words. Billie was grinning, his fists clenched, as he clasped Ray on the back, making the other man flinch in surprise.

"I told you," Ray whispered. "He's still in there."

Billie nodded excitedly. "We'll get to him, boys. You'll get Mikey back, I promise."

For the first time, Frank actually believed him. And, he gave him a genuine smile.

Ray, though, still looked conflicted.

"Mikey is fighting what they did to him, I knew that already, he spared me and Grace, didn't he?"

"Grace?" Shona piped up, interrupting him. "Small girl, around ten years old, big 'fro?"

Ray gazed at her. "Yeah?"

Shona nodded. "She's in my class, brought to the school a few weeks ago. Spirited girl, but so sad."

Frank grabbed at Shona's hand, and she pulled away from him quickly in surprise.

"She's okay though? Not hurt?"

Shona blinked. "She's unharmed, and she will stay that way." Anger flashed across her face. "Nothing is going to happen to any of my kids."

Billie placed his arm around Shona, leading her to the door. "You need to go now, Shona, before it gets dark. We need to get things sorted here, y'know? Please, get yourself to safety."

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Good bye, Billie Joe. Everything they told me about you was true."

Billie was suddenly unsure. "_They_?"

Shona chuckled, flicking her hair out of her eyes. "See you again."

And then, she was gone, rushing through the base, heading towards the exit, her task completed.

Billie waited for her to go, and then turned to meet the gaze of everyone in the room. "You see? These people are for real, like I told you! We're gonna get this right!"

Frank and Mike seemed satisfied, smiling at Billie, but Ray was still unsure.

"Getting in there is one thing, Billie. Finding Mikey, and getting him and ourselves out is another thing altogether."

Billie frowned. "There's always going to be a risk Ray, y'know, but we're as ready as we'll ever be-"

"And what about all the lives we're putting on the line? Shona and everybody like her? We could destroy their cover-"

Billie slammed his fist down on a table beside him, and Ray fell silent.

"We can't creep around in the Zones forever, Ray. We can't hide like rats from them. It's our time now, lets show them, for a change, have them running in fear of _us, _y'know_?_ They took Tre, Mikey, Gerard, Gareth, and Bert away from us. They tortured all of us, ripping families apart, hunting us down like scum." His voice broke, and he closed his eyes. "My wife and kids are gone, my lover is gone, and I can't bring them back. But I can fucking do them proud by never giving up, y'know?"

Mike placed a hand on Billie's shoulder but he shook him off, incensed.

He continued on, his gaze locked on Ray's. "We are ready for this, we can do this!" His eyes flamed as he kicked out at the table, knocking it flying. "It's about time that we got one over on those Better Living bastards..."

They all stared at him as he breathed harshly, trying to control his emotions.

"They're not going to hurt us any more."

XXX

_The room was burning. Flames, smoke, and the insufferable heat were forcing him back, away from the door, at all times. Debris and destruction blocked his path, no matter what he did, no matter which way he turned. He could hear the screams of terror from all around him, but it took him some seconds to realise that the screams were his. He was crying out for help, for someone to save him, but he already knew that the pleas were pointless. Because there was no help coming, not for him, not ever._

He could feel himself being overcome by the smoke. He knew he couldn't escape, not from this room, not from the pain.

There was no choice; he'd have to admit defeat.

The laugher was back, booming, possessing him. It was all around him. The bastard had won—again.

He hung back, head bowed.

His head hurt and his throat ached. He coughed painfully.

He could suddenly see the night sky, and the stars. The ceiling had disappeared. Hope had reappeared. He was almost out. Away from the stench and the hell.

And that was when he saw him, standing there amidst all that horror, marching through the flames and the smoke, heading right for him.

_He backed away, until his back touched the wall behind him._

_How could he escape Hell when the Devil itself was stalking him?_

The hated figure stood in the middle of the room and crossed his arms. Then he began to laugh once stopped dead. He wanted to get to him, to kill him and make all their deaths mean something. Make his death mean something. To rip this man apart, get him away. He wanted to grab the monster and wring the life out of him. He wanted an end to that horrible laughter.

And on cue, Korse's, for that was his name, laughter cut off abruptly.

Korse stepped forward carefully, his hands held above him. His victim could see the metal of the Shooter gun glinting in the fiery light. The devil bowed his head but kept his eyes trained on the frightened man.

Gerard's fists (was that his name, Gerard?) were clenched at his side.

"You killed me." Gerard growled.

"So I did," Korse responded, with a wide grin. "Tell me, Gerard, how do you think you are ever going to escape me?"

"_By returning the favour!"_

_With a yell, Gerard charged forward and Korse raced to meet him. Gerard screamed his fury, while Korse shrieked with delight. Hands outstretched, Gerard reached out for his foe and realized that in the midst of that stricken, flaming room, he knew he would have to continue this bloody fight until one of them was dead. Maybe today would be the day._

He felt hands grabbing for him, wrapping around his throat. He suddenly found himself on his back, pinned to the floor.

"You belong to me," Korse snarled. "I'll never let you go. You'll stay with me, locked in here, forever..."

Gerard couldn't fight him off, couldn't move. He was trapped.

_Korse brandished the shooter gun, holding it against Gerard's arm. He smiled coldly._

"_Who's gonna save Mikey now?" _

_Mikey? His brother, Mikey? Where was Mikey?_

_Korse injected a dart into Gerard's arm._

_Gerard screamed._

The machines bleeped on. The man continued to sleep, his breathing slow and gentle. And no one was there to hear the name he screamed out into the darkness and complete silence.

"MIKEY!"

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi all, hope everyone is okay. Sorry for the delay. I've had quite a tough time lately... First my laptop crashed and lost all my work, and then I had to order a new laptop and wait for it to arrive, and then this week, my mum had a stroke. She's better now and doing okay, thank God, but it was all a bit of a shock. So, sorry for the hold up but I finally got the chapter all sorted. Its a long one!**

**There's a dream sequence featuring noncon/rape here, just to warn you. And some nasty violence.**

**Thanks to everyone for the reviews, I'll reply personally using the reply function to all reviews I get next time, I promise. Its getting late now though, and I want to get this posted for you.**

**Thanks to Amy for beta-ing again...**

**Right... Onward then!**

**~x~**

**Purifying Flame**

**Chapter Three**

Shona crept through the dark, feeling her way carefully as she went along. The rebels were exactly as she had imagined them, as _he_ had described them to her. Billie Joe especially had been everything she had hoped he would be. She didn't know if his plan would succeed, but she was now nervously excited instead of expecting the very worst. These people knew what they were doing, and they were _good_. Maybe, just maybe, they could make this work, get into that city, and get their Exterminator out. An Exterminator in captivity would be a very interesting thing indeed. Yes, they clearly cared about the man and believed that there was a way they could restore the person he once was. She was very sceptical about their hopes, but the information they could gain from Michael would be so important for them. And, besides, it was time that one of the Corporation bastards paid for all the pain and suffering they, the people, had been put through...

She let out a relieved sigh. Finally, she had arrived at their designated meeting place. She tapped gently on his door, the special knock he had taught her. Very quickly, the door was opened slightly and she found herself being pulled inside.

"Hello, Connor."

He nodded to her. "Shona." He gestured impatiently. "How did it go?"

She gazed around the small, empty building he had asked her to meet him in, and then focused on the Resistance leader. John Connor was what he chose to call himself, he had never told her his real name. He was tall and thin, one might even say gangly, with a soft, Scottish accent. She assumed that he hadn't eaten a proper meal for some time. His too-long brown hair was messy and unkempt, and his clothes were tatty and dusty. But, despite his dishevelled appearance, she still couldn't take her eyes off of him. She had agreed to follow him into hell and back by turning against the Corporation, and to stop taking the drugs they prescribed. She had never regretted that decision for one moment.

She stepped closer to him. "It went perfectly," she told him. "I met Billie Joe, he was fine, and everything is set. He and the other rebels will be at the sewer entrance, just like you wanted."

He nodded. "Great. Good work, Shona. It's about time we took the fight to BL/I. And taking out another of their Exterminators is the best way to do that. Especially The Co-ordinator's lover..."

He broke off, listening intently.

She looked at him nervously. "What?"

He pulled her arm, taking her away from the door. "I thought I heard something."

Suddenly, a blank, monotone voice spoke up.

"_Attention. This is the Company. Open the door immediately."_

"Dracs!" Shona hissed. "Oh God..."

Connor jumped into action. He took her hand and led her quickly to the far wall. Pushing hard, another door swung open. He pointed. "You have to go."

She shook her head. "I can't leave you here."

He frowned. "Yes, you can. Someone has to be waiting for Billie Joe and the others. Someone has to lead them into the City. Just get out of here, and whatever happens, stay out of sight." He kissed her gently on the lips. "They've come for me. They won't care about you."

She closed her eyes. "But I led them here. I led them straight to you..."

He shook his head. "They've probably been following me for a while, waiting for their chance.

Please Shona, I've worked so hard on this plan, it has to work. You have to go. Do this for me."

She knew she couldn't refuse him. With one last look, she ran past him, out into the night.

He shut the door quickly behind her.

At that moment, the front door was blown off of its hinges. He protected his face, backing away.

He quickly recovered, drawing himself up to his full height.

"What is the meaning of this?" Connor shouted, watching angrily as a squadron of Draculoids filed through the remains of what was once his front door, each one of them covering him with their ray guns. "Get the Hell out of my home at once!"

They didn't speak, they just watched him, all of them ready to fire if he so much as moved. He fought the urge to glance toward the hidden door, wanting to give Shona the best chance he could to make her escape.

"Are you going to tell me why you're here?" He fumed, his hands balled into fists. Again, they didn't reply.

Just as Connor was beginning to wonder if it was worth making a fight of it, a Scarecrow moved in front of the other drones, standing directly in front of him.

"John Connor?" The 'Crow enquired.

He couldn't help but smirk. The irony of the name was not lost on him. That's why he chose it after all.

He crossed his arms, and eyed the Scarecrow with disdain.

"I assume you know who I am, seeing as how you've broken into my home."

The 'Crow regarded him for a few seconds, before replying: "You will come with us."

Connor chuckled. "Is that right? May I ask why?"

"You are under arrest," came the cold reply. "We are to accompany you to the Detention Centre. Move."

Connor hesitated. He was stalling, but trying not to make it appear obvious. "Are you going to tell me what-"

He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence. With almost a bored wave of his hand, the 'Crow ordered the Draculoids on, and they surged forward, grabbing Connor. The rebel leader was then shoved against the wall face first, and his wrists were quickly handcuffed behind his back.

The Scarecrow then moved forward and seized Connor, pulling him forward.

"You rebel scum," it hissed in his ear, and then threw him toward the door, barking an order of:

_"Take him!"_

Connor was powerless to resist as he was dragged across the room, and pushed through the door.

He, becoming more concerned for his own situation with every passing second, could only hope that he'd bought Shona enough time.

Shona, edging her way closer, holding on to the wall for support, watched them bundle Connor into a waiting Transporter. All she wanted to do was to go after him, to help the man she had grown to love, but his instructions, his wishes for her, had been all to clear. He had wanted her to stay safe. It was up to her now. The rebels were all counting on her. She wouldn't let them, or Connor, down.

With one last soul destroying look as the BL/I vehicle set off, leaving her behind, she then turned and ran back into the shadows.

She knew she couldn't help Connor. But she would make him proud.

She'd make them all proud.

XXX

"Where _the hell_ is he?"

Saint was marching up and down the Detention centre, his whole posture tense and agitated. The room was small, and the walls were identical and white, naturally. The Co-ordinator was watching him, her own expression a mixture of weariness and disgruntlement. He paused, walking over to the table on one side of the room, and slammed his fist down impatiently. "Why are we waiting for him?"

She frowned. "I don't know, Saint. He'll be here soon."

He eyed her, shaking his head, treating her with disdain. "You are blinded by your feelings for him, you know. He's changing, the control is slipping-"

She gritted her teeth. "Why don't you let me worry about Michael?"

He rounded on her. "You know why!"

The Co-ordinator looked towards the door in alarm. "Keep your voice down!"

He tilted his head. "Why? Worried that he's outside there right now, listening in? How can you think that, seeing as how you trust him so completely?"

Hatred burned in her gaze as she glared at him. "Watch what you say to me, Saint."

"You've forgotten what he is!"

_"Was!"_

He stormed up to her, but she didn't flinch. "He's a Killjoy!"

She slapped him hard across the face, knocking his mask away revealing his face. He swore angrily, scooping to retrieve his disguise.

"Don't you ever use that word to me again!" She hissed. "Do you understand?"

"You have to listen to me," He urged, backing away from her slightly. "I know you care for him and it is clouding your judgement. You can't trust him. I can see the way he looks at me sometimes, the doubt and confusion is clear and it makes me uncomfortable. If he remembers..."

"There is nothing to remember! Mikey Way is dead!"

Saint gestured theatrically. "You can't ignore what is right in front of you!"

"He's mine," she spat. "I own him and soon, I'll prove it to you utterly."

He leaned back, shaking his head. "Are you sure he was broken when you reprogrammed him?"

She blinked. "Of course I am!"

He placed his head on one side, contemplating her. "I'm not."

The Co-ordinator opened his mouth to argue further, when suddenly the door opened and Michael, his mask in place, strode into the room, his gaze locked on the others.

"Michael," The Co-ordinator announced, and crossed the room quickly to greet her lover, placing her arms around his middle and pulling him closer. "We were about to send out a search party for you, my sweet."

He smiled back at her, but there was humour on his face though. "I'm sorry," he replied. "I was held up."

"Oh yes?" Saint quickly spoke up, moving closer. "With what?"

Michael fixed his fellow exterminator with a cold stare. He then slipped off his mask, and toyed with it between his fingers.

"Not important," he muttered, in response. "A Draculoid was, in my opinion, using unnecessary force on a citizen and I-"

"Interfered?" Saint snapped, his gaze flickering over to the Co-ordinator as he gave her a knowing look.

She ignored it.

"Well, you're here now-" She began, but Saint wasn't finished.

"The Dracs are the Law-Bringers in this City, Michael," he hissed. "If we undermine them in front of the public, how are they supposed to do the job we have instructed them to do?"

Michael bristled. He didn't want to have this discussion with Saint. He was already regretting the fact that he had said anything at all. He knew Saint never needed much of a reason to chastise him, especially in front of the Co-ordiantor. The other Exterminator had always made his dislike for Michael very obvious. And now, Michael had given him the excuse he needed to launch an attack.

Why couldn't Michael learn to keep his mouth shut?

"I'm aware of the role the Draculoids have in the City, Exterminator." He retorted. "And I would not go against their judgement unless they left me no choice."

"Do tell," Saint preened. "Please tell us what was so important that it held up our business here?"

Michael bristled.

"The Drac was torturing an innocent with a shooter gun."

Saint raised his hands in a "I told you so" gesture to the Co-Ordinator. She frowned, and then sighed. "The weapons have been issued to certain units to aid them in their duty of keeping order, Michael." She lowered her voice. "I appreciate their effect is upsetting but I do promise you, we only have our citizens best interests at heart."

Michael raised an eyebrow. "This woman was attempting to leave the city-"

"At night time?" Saint cut in. "After curfew?"

"Yes but-"

"Then a law was broken?"

Michael clenched his fists. "I accept that but-"

"If you are too weak to watch punishment being administered then I suggest next time you _turn your back_!"

Michael could stand it no longer. Losing all pretence of respect, he rounded on Saint, and grabbed the other man around the throat.

_"She wanted to see her sick mother!"_

Saint laughed in his face. Michael tightened his hold.

The Co-ordinator let out a deep sigh. "Michael, baby, let him go."

Michael glared at her furiously. "But if you'd just listen-"

Her eyes flashed dangerously. "I don't want to have to hurt you, my dear." She put a warning hand on his arm. "I said, let go."

He flinched at her tone, and then released his grip. Saint pushed him away, and then turned to the Co-ordinator.

"Will you listen to me now?"

"Enough!" She threw back. "I've heard enough from you both. Michael made a decision, I will discuss this with him further, just the two of us."

"I bet you will."

"You try my patience, Saint!"

He shook his head at her, disbelieving. "You're a fool, you know that?"

"And you are out of line, Jimmy!"

He snarled at her. "Don't use my name in front of him!"

Michael gaped. Jimmy? That was Saint's real name?

_'Saint Jimmy's comin' down across the alleyway...'_

Something stirred within him. Something long since dead. Something wanting to awaken. He glanced away, trying to clear his mind, trying to fight his way through the cobwebs.

There was a flash. He was somewhere else. No longer alone. And then, a face. And bright, fiery red hair.

_'Mikey, I miss you.'_

"Michael?"

He looked up, startled.

They were both staring at him. The Co-ordinator with concern, Saint with suspicion.

He shuddered. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Forgive me, Saint. I don't know what came over me. Recently, things have been odd. I've..."

"You've what?" Saint urged.

Michael hesitated.

The Co-ordinator stepped between them.

"We can proceed with this another time, my friends. This is clearly getting us nowhere." She turned to Michael, a somewhat fake smile plastered on her lips. "If you have concerns for the decision to arm Draculoids with the Torture Guns, Michael, you can raise this through the proper channels. We have other business to sort out, my love." She gestured toward the door. "I asked us to meet here for a reason. Could we please deal with the matter at hand?"

Michael and Saint continued to eyeball each other, but neither of them argued with her. With a deep sigh, The Co-ordinator walked over to the table, leaned toward a microphone, and pressed a switch.

"Commander?"

_"Yes, ma'am?"_

"Bring him in."

_"At once, ma'am."_

Their argument temporarily forgotten, Saint and Michael exchanged looks, both men as confused as each other. The Co-ordinator, in comparison, seemed calm and in control. She smiled as the door once more swung open and four Draculoids marched in, a man in the centre of them, glaring intently at all the occupants of the room. A Scarecrow brought up the rear, its gun trained on the man's back.

The Co-ordinator stepped forward, her good natured smile replaced by a cruel smirk. The man stared coldly at her as she approached. Michael was impressed by how strong the man seemed. He didn't appear concerned by his dire situation at all. This, however, only seemed to amuse the Co-ordinator more.

This left Michael feeling somewhat nauseous. He knew a battle of wills was about to commence. He also knew there would be only one winner. There always was.

"What is your name, Citizen?" The Co-ordinator asked politely.

The man didn't respond at first, so the Scarecrow behind him shoved him forward, pushing him down on to his knees.

"You will speak when you are spoken to, rebel scum!" He hissed.

He glared at the Crow, and then cleared his throat. "My name is John Connor."

She nodded. "That's better. Now, it is come to our attention that there are rebellious groups active in the city, they like to call themselves a 'resistance force.'

Connor raised an eyebrow. "Is that right?"

The Co-ordinator smiled. "You know very well, seeing as how you are a leader of such a group."

He laughed. "You've got this so wrong, woman!"

Her eyes flashed. "You are the leader of the group known as "Sapphire." We have been watching you for some time. Watching you, watching us. I know you have had contact with the rebels and I want to know everything that you know."

Connor tilted his head. "Do you?"

She smirked. "Yes, I do. And you are going to tell me, trust me."

"Am I?"

She regarded him, and then gestured to the Draculoids waiting by the door. Michael leaned back against the wall, watching intently. Saint seemed just as intrigued. Very quickly, the Draculoids re-entered the room, but this time, they had a young man with them.

The boy's eyes widened in amazement when he saw Connor.

"David?" He gasped. "Why are you here?" He gaped around the room, looking sick with fear. "What's going on?"

Connor leapt forward but was restrained. "Jonas!" He looked again at the Co-ordinator, his face now flushed. "Let him go!"

The smirking woman ignored him. "Why don't I tell you some home truths, Connor?" She walked up to the young man, and placed a tender arm around him. "We have known about your dealings with the rebels for some time. We have also noted your interest in this boy, how concerned for him you are, despite your efforts to hide your connection to him. He hasn't seen you for some years, am I right?"

Connor glanced from the Co-ordinator to Jonas, his panic clear on his face.

"This has absolutely nothing to do with him, you hear me?"

She grinned.

"Your name is not John Connor. It's David MacDonald. And this is your younger brother, yes?"

Connor was fighting to contain his emotions. "Leave him alone," he whispered.

The Co-ordinator gestured to Jonas. "He is your brother, and your real name is David. John Connor is the name you gave yourself when you decided you'd be a hero. Am I right?"

Trembling slightly, Connor closed his eyes. "Yes, alright? My real name is David and he is my little brother. This has nothing to do with him, he hasn't seen me for years. Just, let him go." A pause. "Please."

"Why don't we try this again, David?" The Co-ordinator continued, once more ignoring his pleas. She tightened her hold on Jonas, who was looking at her with wide, frightened eyes. "There is no need for anyone to get hurt today, is there?"

Connor now looked like a man defeated. It was as if he couldn't even see or hear her any more. He couldn't take his eyes off of his brother.

And watching his despair was sickening Michael. He had no choice, he had to look away.

"Tell me," The Co-ordinator questioned, "You rebels have a weapon of some kind to use against us, don't you?"

Connor didn't answer.

The Co-ordinator's patience was at an end. "Must your brother die because of your stupidity?"

Jonas gasped. With a gut-wrenching sob of terror, he wrenched his arm away from the woman and tore away from her, yelling for help from nobody in particular. Before any of them knew what was happening, he was racing for the door.

Connor jumped forward. "Yes, Jonas! Just run!"

Hearing his brother urging him on, the boy barged his way past two Draculoids and made a desperate lunge to the door. He didn't get through it though, as he quickly found himself face to face with Michael, who had moved instinctively to prevent the lad's escape. Jonas stared at Michael for a few seconds, breathing harshly, and Michael gazed back, waiting for the boy to make the first move.

There was a hiss of "Go, Jonas!" The boy glanced over his shoulder and his brother was pinned to the floor by Saint, his head shoved to the floor by the Exterminator's boot. Jonas looked toward Michael once more. "You have nowhere to go," Michael said quietly. "Don't give them any extra excuse to hurt your brother, or you."

Jonas gaped at him.

The boy was suddenly grabbed and pulled away from Michael then, and manhandled back into the centre of the room, where he was thrown to the ground beside his brother.

"No!" Connor snapped, trying to get to his brother but held firm by Saint. "You don't have to hurt him!"

"Obviously, we do." The Co-ordinator retorted. "Or you could tell us what we need to know. It's up to you."

He knew it was useless. Connor's gaze met that of his brother's for a moment, and he showed his emotion when he saw the pain and fear in Jonas' eyes. He closed his eyes for a second, and then nodded once.

The Co-ordinator smirked. "This weapon, what is it?"

Connor swallowed hard. "I don't know much about it, and that's the truth."

"Well," she snarled, "What do you know?"

He hesitated for a moment. The Co-ordinator had had enough. With a wave of her hand, a ray gun nozzle was suddenly placed against Jonas' head. Michael flinched. Connor also reacted at once. "Stop! Don't!"

"Then tell me!" She yelled, her sudden increase in volume making Michael squirm. "Tell me what you know!"

Connor seemed to know he had run out of time. His defeat was clear in his voice. All he wanted to do was protect his brother. That was all he could do. "There is a weapon. I don't know what it is or what the rebels are planning to do with it. I gathered some Intel from other resistances in the City and passed it on to my contact."

Saint, finally, lifted his boot off of Connor's back, allowing the man to move. "Who is your contact?" He spat. "Give me a name."

With one last sorrowful look toward Jonas, Connor replied, in a tiny voice. "The only man I've had dealings with is called Billie Joe." He glanced up at Saint when he heard the man's sharp intake of breath. "That's all I know."

Saint's hands were clenched, and the anger was clear, despite the mask concealing his face.

Michael tilted his head, surprised to see the emotion his colleague was showing. The name 'Billie Joe' meant nothing to him. He wondered why it seemed to mean so much to his fellow Exterminator.

"Where is the weapon now?" The Co-ordinator continued her questioning of the broken rebel leader. "Who has it? Which rebel?"

He flinched at the question. "I told you I don't-"

"WHO?!"

Connor trembled. "Doctor Death Defying knows where it is. That's all I've heard. That's the only information they've shared with me! Otherwise, I pass on anything I hear, get food and supplies to them. That's it. I swear to you."

Her eyes had grown wide at the name she so detested. "I knew he would be involved." She mused, more to herself. "I knew it."

She turned to Michael.

"Michael, I-"

She paused. He wasn't paying any attention, he wasn't even looking at her. He was staring into space, lost following hearing three words that he didn't understand, but they sparked something in him. Some memory that he couldn't, even though he tried, reach. It was locked away, so deep. Was it ever there at all?

_'Doctor Death Defying...' _

"Michael!"

He looked up sharply, her high pitched tone pulling him out of his thoughts.

"Yes ma'am?"

She was eyeing him closely. "I need you to take David here to have his brain scanned. We must know everything he knows about this weapon. Whatever this device is, the fact it is in the hands of that criminal is bad news. He is a dangerous madman, obsessed enough to use whatever comes his way to hurt our company. He would destroy this city if he had the opportunity! Innocent lives do not concern him, only his deluded crusade." She smiled at Michael. "Take a squad of Draculoids with you."

He inclined his head politely, but didn't move. His gaze was still locked on Jonas.

"What of the brother?"

"He stays with me!" Saint announced. "We need to make sure Connor here doesn't get any bright ideas of escape-"

The Co-ordinator smiled. "I don't think that is necessary." She purred, and then, before Saint or Michael could even register what she was about to do, she waved her hand once more.

The Scarecrow poised behind Jonas didn't hesitate. It squeezed the trigger, and the deadly blast erupted from the gun, hitting Jonas from point black range squarely in the back of his head. The boy's body crumpled to the floor, his brain blasted to nothing by the blast. There was a deadly silence in the room as he lay at the feet of his executor, staring out of unseeing eyes. Dead.

Michael's hand immediately moved to his mouth as he stared in silent horror, sickened by the dead body now lying before him. The boy had been murdered in cold blood, there was no other description for it. She had killed him because she didn't need him any more. An innocent child's life snuffed out, for no reason at all. Michael couldn't look any longer. He glanced away, fighting back the wetness threatening to spill from his eyes.

His gaze met Saint's, peering at him behind the other man's own mask. He could see his fellow Exterminator was as stunned as he was.

The Co-ordinator, in comparison, looked completely unconcerned by what she had just done.

And the realisation of her lack of any empathy froze Michael to his core.

What kind of person orders the killing of a young boy, and doesn't even care?

He knew the answer. He just didn't want to face it.

Connor, meanwhile, was staring at his brother's broken body as if he could not believe what was, horribly, before his eyes. He opened his mouth, and then shut it again, wanting to speak but unable to find the words.

"Jonas?" He finally whispered, his heart clearly broken into pieces. "He's all I've got left... I was trying to protect him..." He struggled against his Draculoid captors, desperate to get to his brother. "No..."

"Release him," Saint whispered, and at last, Connor was able to scramble over to his brother's body, and hold him, rocking gently.

He looked up, his eyes meeting those of his brother's murderer. "Why?" He asked her. She returned his gaze, smiling.

"All rebels are targeted for extermination."

"My brother wasn't a rebel."

She raised an eyebrow. "Well, now, he never will be."

He tried to force his way past the Dracs in a crazed effort to get to her, but Michael once more acted as he was expected to her, moving in front of his leader, and lover, and cutting Connor off. The rebel leader snarled in fury, punching Michael hard in his grief, trying to force the man out of his way, but Michael held his ground. The Co-ordinator moved away, closer to Saint, gesturing for the Draculoids to move in but Michael held up one hand, stopping them. He took hold of Connor, and whispered to him. "Stop this. Don't die too."

Connor actually chuckled. "Why not?"

Michael couldn't answer him. The man had just watched his kid brother's brains being fried. What was there to say?

He let out a low gasp, when Connor suddenly grabbed him, and pulled him closer, to hiss in his ear:

"_They are coming for you, Killjoy..."_

Michael stared at him. He didn't understand.

Connor nodded to him.

Michael blinked. The Killjoys were all dead. What was this? Some kind of warning?

The Co-ordinator stepped forward. "Take Connor to be scanned. I feel there is much more to be learnt from him." The Draculoids gripped Connor hard, and dragged him away from Michael, who could only watch as he was bundled toward the door.

"Wait," The Co-ordinator called. They all paused, turning back to her. "Once we have scanned him, prepare for re-programming."

Connor stared at her wide-eyed. "NO!" And then, when this had no effect, he called; "Please!"

She smiled back at him happily, and then nodded to her drones, and the desperate man was dragged from the room, struggling feebly.

The Co-ordinator let out a satisfied sigh. She turned to her Exterminators, who were still watching her nervously.

That went well," she told them. "We will find out everything from this man. I know he knew more than he told me."

Michael cleared his throat. He tried to keep the tremor out of his voice. "Why did you kill the boy?"

She raised an eyebrow. "In order to reprogramme him, Michael, we needed him broken. Nothing breaks a man faster than taking the one person they love from them." She tossed her hair back. "That reminds me. Remove the carcass."

And with that, she turned and marched from the room, gesturing for the Scarecrow to follow her. She didn't bother to wait for a response from her Exterminators. But then, one wasn't needed.

Michael and Saint watched her go, and then exchanged glances. Michael could see that Saint was as disturbed by what had just happened as he was. Saint shook his head slightly, and then moved toward the body.

"What are you doing?" Michael snapped.

Saint eyed him. "Getting rid of the body, like she ordered."

"And that's it? That's all you are going to do about this? "

"What do you want me to do, Mikey?"

Michael stopped. Saint, realising his mistake, widened his eyes. A shudder ran through Michael as he stared at the other Exterminator in shock. "What did you just call me?"

"Nothing."

"Yes, you did. You called me-"

"LEAVE IT!"

Michael was rendered speechless. Saint took of his mask, and covered his face with his hands. "Just, leave it, Michael."

Michael didn't know what to say. His eyes once more locked on the broken body at their feet and he felt his stomach turn. Unable to stand it any longer, he turned and tore from the room, just making it outside before he fell to his knees, his body wrecked with sobs. He leaned forward and was violently sick all over the floor, his whole being trembling in despair and disgust.

How could he stand by and watch that happen? Why didn't he do something about it? And why was this killing devastating him so much? He'd faced death before, he'd caused enough of it, after all. But this was different. This wasn't a rebel, or a criminal, this was a helpless, innocent boy. His life had been stolen, ripped away, by an evil woman, his lover, who was simply "doing her job."

He couldn't bare this. He had to get away.

"Michael? Are you okay?"

He heard Saint from just inside the room, calling to him. He wiped at his eyes, and then fixed his mask. The other man suddenly appeared, crouching down beside him.

"Michael, you need to listen-"

But he didn't want to hear it. With an angry hiss, Michael shoved past Saint and rushed off, running deeper into the city as fast as he could, away from Saint and the Co-ordinator. Away from everyone and everything.

XXX

_The room was cold and dark. Gerard blinked. That made no sense. There was fire surrounding them, but it never burnt them. Gerard couldn't understand why. Korse was still there with him._

Taking him. Claiming him.

Gerard whimpered.

"No!"

The rapist behind him was panting hard now. Another painful thrust. And then another and the broken man could do nothing but kneel there and take the agony. He let out scream after scream and every cry, every whimper that was forced from the terrified victim was cruelly mocked by his triumphant attacker.

Gerard cried out again. What was this? A memory? A dream?

How could he escape?

"Please, stop!" He begged, tears slipping down his face.

Korse's cruel chuckle rang in his ears and he closed his eyes in humiliation. How could it have all come to this? What had he become? A piece of flesh for a sneering bastard to defile over and over again? He opened his eyes and suddenly, they locked at once with those of a smirking Korse. He wasn't behind him now. Had he moved so quickly? The evil man was rubbing his hands together in glee, revelling in Gerard's torment.

"Why should I stop, Gerard?" Korse enquired, his taunting smile widening. "Tell me, why should I ruin all of my fun?" He moved closer and was delighted to see the other man flinch. "I've earned this, haven't I?" He leaned in ever closer. "I beat you."

Gerard groaned. The pain was so all-consuming that he was finding it hard to breath.

_"Hurts," he managed to reply, through clenched teeth._

Korse shook his head sadly.

"It hurts, my sweet Killjoy? Oh dear." His voice dripped with false sympathy. "That just will not do. Do you want this to end?"

His victim moaned. He knew he must seem pathetic but at that moment, he didn't care. He just wanted his ordeal over and done with. He could not cope for too much longer.

"It's quite simple, Gerard."

Laughing softly, Korse grasped his hair, pulling the younger man's head up forcefully, forcing him to look at the exit, so close, but yet so far.

"There's the door," He hissed in Gerard's ear. "All you have to do is get through it. Do it. Go. Run through the flames. I'm not stopping you. You're doing that all on your own."

Gerard couldn't bear it. He squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to do what Korse wanted. But, by showing his weakness, he was already playing into Korse's hands. The evil man grinned, and then released his hold on Gerard, allowing him to fall painfully to the floor. Gerard Way was broken and there was no escape for him.

He would remain there forever. Locked in his own hell, with his own worst nightmare.

"Tell you what." He purred, "You be a good boy and keep nice and still for me and maybe this will all become easier for you." He slurred the words in Gerard's ear whilst he stroked his hair, a cold and calculating smile on his lips. "Do you understand me, boy?"

Gerard nodded. He still refused to look at the smug man. He wanted this to be finished with. He stole a quick glance once more at the door, flickering red from the flames all around them and his heart sank.

He had lost.

Realising that Korse had stopped talking, Gerard looked up to find the horrible man, his devil, still leering down over him, watching him intently.

"Are you scared, Gerard?"

"Leave me alone."

"I'm sorry?"

"Just stop, please."

Korse's eyes narrowed. Without warning, he struck Gerard hard across the face, knocking him down to the ground.

Gerard couldn't help himself. He muttered one word. "Frank."

Korse paused, his eyes glinting. Then, he threw back his head, and laughed. "He's not coming to save you this time, Gerard. No one's coming."

Gerard shivered. The problem was, he believed it. He was dead after all. And this was all there was now. Forever and ever.

"Are you going to answer my question?"

Gerard looked up at him with wide, red eyes.

"Are you scared?" Korse repeated, slowly and carefully.

Gerard blushed. He was ashamed but he had to answer, he had no choice. "Yes."

Korse laughed again, this time more loudly. The sound echoed round the tiny space. "Good."

He placed his head on one side and appeared to consider Gerard. Then, he shrugged and hurriedly slipped down his own trousers, not taking his eyes away from the younger man. Gerard could only watch him, an ever-growing feeling of dread developing deep within. Korse was mere feet away from Gerard now, holding his large cock in his grip and gently stroking it. Once he was hard, he quickly brought his member up to Gerard's lips and waited. Gerard gritted his teeth and turned his head away. No. He would not lower himself any further. This would not happen.

Korse was smirking cruelly.

"Open up." He said, quietly.

"Please, no." Gerard moaned softly.

The older man ignored him.

"Do as I say."

"I can't do this."

Korse raised an eyebrow.

"Of course you can;" He threw back. "I am sure you did this for Frank enough times. You will now do it for me. Open you mouth wide and suck. Like a good little whore."

Gerard turned away as one solitary tear trickled down his face. He hated himself.

"It's easy, Killjoy," Korse mocked him. "Here, let me help you."

Korse kicked Gerard hard in his groin, and when the man let out a cry of anguish, he forced his cock into the open mouth and down the whimpering Killjoy's throat. Gerard gagged; sickened by this latest attack he had to endure. He had no choice. He had to suck. He closed his eyes tightly, not wanting to see Korse revelling in this latest triumph.

"That's right, whore. Suck me!"

Gerard flushed in shame. He had never felt so pathetic, so used, so defeated.

And this was all he had. This room, these walls, this fire keeping him there, forever a prisoner. And Korse forever his torturer.

"Gerard?"

The Killjoy stopped sucking, and leaned back, away from his foul task. That voice – it wasn't Korse any more. Gerard opened his eyes and looked past the now panting Korse into the eyes of Bert, who was standing behind Gerard's tormentor with a knowing smile on his lips. Gerard quickly realised that only he was seeing his one time friend.

"Help me," Gerard whispered. Korse didn't seem to hear him or notice that his victim was no longer pleasuring him. The evil man's head was thrown back in ecstasy and he was moaning and slurring with desire. The Killjoy hated to look at him. Instead, he focused on Bert.

He tried again.

"Please. Help me."

Bert's smile widened. It was neither unkind nor friendly. Just indifferent.

"Sorry, Gee. No can do."

"Why are you here, Bert?" Gerard asked, trying to stand but still being held down by the weight of the oblivious Korse. "You shouldn't be here."

"No shit!" Bert replied. "And nor should you. Figure it out, Gee. You can beat him. Get out of here. They're waiting for you."

"I can't leave;" He whimpered. "The fire-"

Bert suddenly looked angry. "You can, Gerard. You just have to want it enough. He's not in charge here. You are."

Bert was fading. He was nearly gone.

"Look deeper, Gerard. Figure it out."

The room was deathly quiet. Quiet, except for the sound of the machine softly bleeping, keeping the sleeping man alive. The man continued to dream, whimpering slightly, whispering a name...

_"Bert..."_

The man watching over him raised an eyebrow, and nodded knowingly.

He was "as good as dead," they said. He was brain dead, no more than a "vegetable," they said.

They shouldn't have been so quick to declare him dead. They had been so wrong to doubt him.

But then, they didn't know Gerard Way, did they?

The watching man smiled. "Come on, Gee. Time to wake up. You got shit to sort out…"

He didn't stir this time. It didn't matter. Not too much longer to wait now.

They said the Killjoys were "finished."

They would learn the truth. Soon.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Evening everyone! Sorry for the long wait, I hope I make up for that with this extra long chapter! I really hope you enjoy this, a lot happens here! Usual warnings really – noncon in a dream sequence.**

**Thanks for all the comments about my mum. Means a lot.**

**Thanks to Amy and Charlotte for their help with this one.**

**Purifying Flame**

**Chapter Four**

Michael was sitting on a low stone wall, keeping out of the way of any prying eyes. His mask was placed beside him, one of only a few recent times he had removed it out of the safety of his, and her, quarters. It was dark now, Michael hadn't even noticed when that had happened. How long had he been sat outside there, anyway? He closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath, and clear his head. It was a futile effort. All he could see was the boy, Jonas' crumpled body falling to the ground a few feet away from him, as his older brother's traumatised scream chilled him to the bone, when he realised that the young man was dead. The guilt and horror had seized Michael in that moment and hadn't let him out of it's grip since. That boy had died for nothing, and the woman he loved had ordered his death as calmly as if she had asked for a glass of water. Killing had become second nature to her.

It had been second nature to him too. How many men, women and children had he killed on her orders? And what had he felt as he had pulled the trigger? Nothing, it had been his duty, and that was it. Until recently, when he had come face to face with the last Killjoy. The rebel he had spared, and had then protected by confirming his death to his superiors, had been kind to him. Genuine kindness. That was the exact moment everything had changed for Michael and he didn't even know why. Since then, the dreams and flashes had started, the visions of him on a stage, standing beside three other men, including that wild haired rebel, and also the red haired man who had also spoken so affectionately and had seemed so full of love to him, in a way _she_ never had done. The man who had called him "Mikey." He wasn't real but he had affected Michael more than the woman he had shared a bed with. Michael didn't know what the recurring dreams meant, or why he had been instructed by the co-ordinator to ignore them, but he wanted to find out. Why did dreams matter so much that they needed to be ignored? And why did no other person in that City have dreams? What made him different? He needed to know.

Even more concerning, was the fact that he had chosen to ignore her wish for him to increase his daily drug intake? It was more than that. He had stopped taking the pills entirely. And he had done this because the man in his dreams had told him to. He had urged him to "think freely and throw the shit away." Why the hell was Michael listening to a creation of his subconscious?

What did it all mean?

Every single day of his life, he had felt like there was something missing. He had felt so alone.

It wasn't only the answers to these question Michael found himself looking for, there was so much more. He had begun to think about who_ he_ actually was. What kind of person was he? He had memories of growing up in the City, of his parents and brother being murdered by rebels, and the pain he had gone through. But where did he live? What was his address before he became an orphan? The Co-ordinator found him in the street, took him in and they fell in love, he not only had memories, but he had also heard that so many times. It wasn't just a memory, it was a feeling that he couldn't ignore. But what about lovers before _her_? What about friends? And this name that he had heard more and more recently, _Mikey_? No one in his life had ever called him that, it had always been simply 'Michael.' So, where did the shortened version come from? And why had some dirty rebel called him by it, as if they had once been friends?

The time had come. He needed to know why he had become the man he was now.

He would never know peace until he learned the truth.

And he didn't want to feel alone any more.

Just as he was pondering his next move, and knowing that he couldn't just sit there, all night, lost in his thoughts, he was brought out of his musings abruptly when the shrill sound of his communicator filled the quiet space.

He frowned, and then brought his wrist up to his lips, and pressed the button.

"Michael here?"

"_Michael._" His heart sank as the Co-ordinator's voice boomed out at him over the waves, "_Where are you_?"

"Out for a walk." He replied, simply.

There was a pause. "_I see. Well, we have gained much information from the rebel leader, Connor. It appears a group of rebels will be attempting to gain entry into the City very shortly. I want you to lead the ambush."_

Michael closed his eyes, rubbing at his forehead. "And Saint?" He enquired.

"_I am giving you this honour!_" Came her snappy response. "_I expect you to be pleased, Exterminator. I will be remaining in the Detention Centre, so will be expecting constant updates on your progress. You need to go to the education centre at once. All available Draculoids are also being sent to the area. I want every last rebel captured or killed, Michael. See that I am not disappointed."_

Michael cleared his throat. "Did Connor say why they are attacking us?"

"_Why do you think?_" She threw back. "_Same as always._ _They plan to destroy us!"_

"But why tonight?" He pressed. "What do they want?"

He waited when the line went silent.

"Ma'am?"

"_There is no more information!_" She hissed indignantly. "_You have your orders, Exterminator. See that they are carried out!"_

And then she cancelled the call.

He sat there for a moment, all of his thoughts, doubts and fears rotating through his brain. The last thing he wanted to do right then was to go to that centre, leading an army of mindless drones into battle. He looked down at the white ray gun grasped in his right hand, and he frowned. He knew he should obey her instructions, as ever he had the urge to go and do just that, and resisting the order was actually painful for him. He'd never wondered why before though.

He stood up slowly, and began to walk in the direction of the school. After a few steps, he paused, looking back over his shoulder.

He couldn't go on like this another second, he needed answers. And there was only one person he knew could give him what he craved.

He turned, and headed in the other direction, making straight for the Detention Centre.

XXX

The darkness surrounded them as the small group of rebels made their way to the edge of the City, having spent the last few hours crossing Zone Three on foot, each of them nervous and apprehensive about what they were getting themselves into. Billie Joe led the way, with Mike, Ray just behind them, then Frank and Luka, and finally Show Pony and a few other volunteers bringing up the rear. They all knew the plan, and were assured by Billie that it had been prepared fully. They were trying not to think about how badly things could go wrong. They were deep in enemy territory, hopelessly outnumbered and relying on people they didn't even know.

As Frank and Ray exchanged glances, it was clear that they were both thinking the same thing:

_'Were they walking right into one Hell of an elaborate trap?'_

Ray reached out, and grasped Frank's shoulder. Something else was clear. This was about Mikey. He was in there, somewhere, and it was up to them to get him out.

Whether he wanted to go with them or not.

Billie waved his hand, and the whole party knelt down, as a patrol of Dracs passed by in the near distance.

"What happens now, Bill?" Mike hissed to his friend.

"We wait." Billie replied, abruptly.

They slumped down together, each of them looking up fearfully at every noise, or whenever a BL/I drone, Draculoid and Scarecrow alike, walked past. Three times they were nearly discovered, and each man was becoming more and more anxious as the time went by.

When thirty minutes had passed and nothing had occurred, Frank approached Billie apprehensively

"Hey, Billie?"

"Don't even suggest it, Frank. They're coming."

Frank swallowed. He knew how much effort Billie had put into this plan, and working with this group of rebels, but that didn't change the fact that they were all out in the open, and if so much as one Draculoid spotted them, they would be sitting ducks.

Just as Frank had made up his mind to suggest to Billie that perhaps they had all been led on a merry dance, Billie looked up sharply, his ray gun raised and ready. Then, a quiet voice hissed:

"_Billie Joe?"_

Giving Frank a triumphant smile that just screamed "_told you!_" Billie rose up, and moved forward, careful not to make a sound. Shona rushed forward to meet him, taking his hand, and offering him a warm smile. "I'm sorry I'm late," she whispered. "There are lots of patrols about tonight."

"We saw," Frank retorted. "Almost as if they're expecting action tonight-"

Shona gave him a cold stare. "The Draculoids are always patrolling at night. Anyone they see out after curfew is fair game to them. Their idea of sport. It's the only entertainment they get. Anyone who is forced to live in the City knows that."

Frank glared back at her. "You think surviving in the Zones is a picnic, sugar?"

"That's enough!" Billie snapped, fixing Frank with a filthy look. "Why you alone, baby? You said there would be more with you."

"Connor just sent me," she told him. "I spoke to some other rebels, friends of mine, and they are tracking us though." She gestured across the City boundary. "We have to go overground to the Education Centre, it'll be dangerous but we can make it, if we're careful and you guys have your wits about you-" She threw Frank a knowing look.

Ray grabbed his arm, preventing him from responding. "Leave it!" He hissed.

Frank shrugged him off, and pursed his lips together. He didn't look happy.

Shona was still talking. "We get through the school, meet up with Connor in the assembly room. The tunnel is right outside, and Connor will lead you through to the Detention Centre." She tossed her hair back. "The Coordinator and her Exterminators are all there tonight. We don't know why."

Luka stepped forward. "Is the school safe?"

She eyed him. "Safe as anywhere else here. I work there, so I know it well. There are lots of tunnel entrances all over the City, it's how the Dracs get around quickly during an emergency, and we have many emergencies..." She shrugged. "It's the best we got. So, you coming?"

Billie glanced over at his allies, and they all nodded. They had come this far. What good would turning back be now?

The former lead singer nodded. "Eh, Shona..." He whispered to her, and then coughed.

She looked at him quizzically, and then was embarrassed to realise that she was still holding on his hand.

She let go quickly.

He flashed her a big smile, one that she couldn't help but return. He then gestured toward the City.

"Lead on, baby."

XXX

The Coordinator was watching Gerard closely, her dislike for the Killjoy evident on her face. A small group of doctors were walking around her, moving to check different apparatus. She didn't look at them though, her eyes were fixated only on Gerard.

He slept on, apparently peacefully.

"The other rebel has told us everything he knows about this weapon, though we still know precious little." She jerked her head toward Gerard. "This man was a rebel leader with connections to Death Defying himself. He must have known something. Find out everything you can." A cold smile spread across her face. "Go as deep as you need to. Report any findings to me. This is your most important task now."

She lifted her gaze to the leading Doctor, nodded to him, and then hurriedly left the room.

The doctors moved to begin their work. The Head Physician gestured for one to check the scans of their 'patient's' brain as he peered at his face closely.

"There are signs of brain activity, sir." The man reported.

"Fascinating," The Head Doctor whispered, peering over Gerard, pulling up the man's eyelids. "This man is clinging on to life. You must wonder why he bothers..."

A doctor, watching the monitors closely, spoke up.

"The readings show that he is scared, Sir."

The Doctor looked around, perplexed, and then actually scoffed. "Really, physician? You believe he is capable of_ emotions_? He is nothing but a vegetable!"

"Yes, Sir," The team member replied, somewhat quickly. "I appreciate that. But yet, the readings clearly show that he is very concerned by something. Right now, he is frightened. Something deep inside-"

His superior laughed. "You are being ridiculous, man! You'll be telling me he has dreams next!"

The other man fell silent, looking again at the controls. His body language clearly showed though that he was seething.

There was a pause, before the leading Doctor broke the silence. "Your intentions are good though, physician, though your clearly incorrect. You must register all readings, any signs of life, no matter how small, they must be recorded and passed on to the Co-Ordinator." He stood for a moment, hands on hips. "If he _were_ to awaken-"

One drone, a large man with a gruff voice, his face covered by his 'Crow mask, cleared his throat.

"You don't really believe he could wake up, do you, Sir?" He shook his head. "The massive trauma caused to his brain when the Reprogrammer was ripped from his head would mean that there was next to no-"

"I know the diagnosis!" The Head Doctor stormed, rounding on the other man, who backed away instantly. "I was the man who operated on him. I know he is as good as dead." He placed his hands on Gerard's table, leaning closer to the prone man. "However unlikely, we must investigate all readings. If your colleague is correct, and there are flashes, tiny flickers of_ something_ behind those eyes..." He smiled. "It is intriguing to say the least." His lips curled. "I believe there is still much to learn from this subject."

"Subject, sir?" The first Scarecrow had stopped. There was a strange edge to his tone now. "You make him sound less than human."

The Doctor shrugged. "He is a rebel. He's not important."

The 'Crow didn't attempt to reply.

"Very well then," the Head Surgeon stated, addressing all of his team, who suddenly gave him their full attention. "Enough of this talk. We have work to do. The Co-ordinator has given her orders. We must see that we get her the answers she seeks. Delve as deeply as necessary. All further damage we cause is unavoidable." He waved his hand. "Move."

Without any further ado, they rushed to obey, all advancing on the helpless, sleeping man in the centre of the room.

All, that is, except for the one Crow who had questioned his leader. He stood perfectly still for a few moments, watching the others preparing to work on their "subject." His gaze lowered as he contemplated what he should do. He looked up sharply when he heard the sleeping man let out a low cry of discomfort as the scanner was fixed to his temple once more.

The doctors were discussing this at length, talking and acting as though the man lying defenceless before them was nothing but a rodent, one they were free to experiment on as they saw fit.

The Scarecrow knew he couldn't stop them. There was no point staying there a moment longer. They wouldn't allow Gerard to die, he was still too useful to them. The damage they could do though, that was another matter.

All he could hope was that Gerard fought his way out of his head before they hurt him further.

As inconspicuously as he were able, the masked man slipped out of the room, grimacing angrily when he heard the "test subject" cry out once more in his sleep.

_'Hold on, Gerard,_' he thought, desperately. '_Keep fighting. Not long now.'_

XXX

_Gerard stood, facing his greatest foe, the face of his nightmares. He could feel his heart hammering against his chest. He was breathing hard, his fists clenched into balls at his side. Gerard didn't take his eyes off of the sneering man standing before him. Korse began to circle him, his sneer turning into a mocking smile._

"_What is it to be then, Gerard?" He taunted. "An eternal fight to the death between good," he gestured to himself and then to the younger man, "and evil?" He let out a low chuckle. "Do you even know what you are still fighting for?"_

_Gerard knew only to well what he was fighting for. His freedom. The right to be with his loved ones again. The right to live._

_Victory was the only option. Anything else didn't bear thinking about._

_"Scared, Killjoy?" Korse taunted Gerard mercilessly while still circling around him like a hunter playing with his prey. "I'll make it quick for you, I promise." He threw back his head, and laughed loudly._

_Gerard didn't respond. He knew that would annoy Korse._

_The Killjoy couldn't help but gasp when Korse almost flew through the air toward him. He crashed into the younger man, sending him tumbling to the floor and winding Gerard painfully in the process. As Gerard could do nothing but lay beneath his enemy, gasping for breath, he soon found himself trapped as Korse pined him to the floor by his wrists, grinning victoriously._

_The flames roared around them, burning ever more brightly._

_"That wasn't much of an effort, Party Poison. Gotta say, I expected more."_

_"You... bastard," he whispered quietly. Korse smirked, and then glared down at Gerard, who added; "You sick, twisted bastard."_

_Korse raised an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling._

_"Want me to put you out of your misery, don't you, Gerard?" he drawled. "I'm sorry but no can do. 'We're stuck here together forever, you and I." He grabbed Gerard's hair and pulled his head up towards him, leaning closer so he could lick seductively along the other man's lips. He then bit down, causing Gerard to whimper in pain. "There are ways to make the time go by more enjoyably though, Killjoy..."_

_"Get the hell off of me, you son of a bitch!"_

_With a snarl, Gerard kicked out at Korse, catching him on his groin. The madman let out a stunned shout and Gerard took full advantage, hitting his enemy twice in the gut, and his foe fell to the ground beside him, face screwed up in pain, cursing loudly._

_Moving quickly, Gerard dragged his aching body to his feet and stared down at his fallen foe, his face grim. His stomach knotted when he saw Korse continue to smirk up at him. With a rush of anger, Gerard kicked Korse hard in the head, feeling a flush of pleasure when the man grunted and finally laid still._

_Seizing his chance, Gerard moved over to the doorway, hanging back due to the flames, as ever blocking his path. He stared through them, the heat almost scorching._

_How could he ever get through the fire? He'd be burnt to death if he tried._

_His heart sank when he heard that cold chuckle from just behind him._

_As he whirled round, fear was already once more clutching his stomach. He found himself face-to-face with Korse, and the evil man was watching him, looking frenzied and furious._

_And holding a very large plank of wood._

XXX

The rebels were creeping through the school, the darkness and eeriness of the deserted building effecting them all. They had made it to the building with little problems, something that Frank found disconcerting. They had seen many patrols along the way, just none close to them, or on their path. Neither Shona nor Billie seemed worried about this, stating they shouldn't sneer at some good luck for once. Shona led the way through the maze of corridors, and then Billie, Mike, Luka, Frank, and finally Ray and Show Pony bringing up the rear. The extra rebels that had chosen to join them on their mission were in the second group, a couple of meters behind them. Billie moved ahead of the others, falling into step beside Shona.

"Where are you taking us?" He whispered. There was a hint of anxiety in his tone.

She gave him an annoyed glance, and then pressed a finger to her lips, deploring for him to keep silent. He frowned, and then grabbed her hand, bringing her to a stop. "I appreciate we gotta hurry, sweetheart, but I need to know where we're going. These boys have put a lot of faith in me, and me in you-"

He regretted those words as soon as they were out of his mouth. She rounded on him at once, and Billie suddenly found himself pinned up against the wall.

"Do you know," she snarled, "How much I've risked to help you? How dare you-"

"Hey!" Mike was pulling her away from his friend, and then shoving her away. "That's not helping." He gave Billie a withering look. "We gotta trust her Bill, she's brought us this far."

Billie nodded repeatedly. "I know that, Mike. I didn't mean-"

"Yeah, well, you said it!" Shona was trembling with anger.

"I'm sorry," he told her, his head bowed to show his regret. "I appreciate everything you've done for us." He gestured to her. "Lead on, I'll keep quiet."

That seemed to cool her fury. She gave him a curt nod, and then continued on. "We're meeting Connor, so you asked. He'll lead you on the rest of the way. As I told you, you'll be using the tunnels to get into the Detention Centre, as far as we know from sightings, that's where Exterminator Michael will be. Connor will explain the escape plan." She threw Billie a cold look. "Happy now?"

He grinned at her. "Very."

She couldn't help but smile at that. Her eyes lingered on Billie, who had turned to Mike for a quick exchange, and then she headed on, making her way down the longer corridors, until finally leading them into a larger room. They paused, allowing time for their comrades, led by Show Pony, to catch them up. They watched as the other group filed in the room and then they all stood, waiting. After five minutes, in which they, including Shona, were all becoming more nervous by the passing second, a man walked into the room.

"Connor!" Shona exclaimed. She rushed over to him and went to hug him, but he held out a hand, stopping her.

"We don't have long," he told her. "There's lots of Draculoid activity out there tonight. We had better get moving." He looked over at the watching rebels. "How was your journey here?"

"It was fine," Billie responded. "No trouble at all."

Connor's eyes bored into Billie's. "That's lucky," he replied.

Frank exchanged a knowing look with Ray. He didn't like this. Connor seemed too... robotic. And they had both seen enough people, including loved ones, acting the same to know exactly what it meant. Frank took a step toward Billie, wanting to tell his friend his fears.

But Billie, and Mike, had apparently noticed as well.

"Shona," Billie said, his voice low, "We should get out of here."

Shona, who had been watching Connor closely, glanced at Billie questionably.

Connor took a couple of steps forward. "Are you Billie Joe?" He asked.

Billie clenched his fists as he regarded the other man. After a moment's hesitation, he replied; "Yeah, I am."

The other man's face broke out in a wide smile. "It's good to finally meet you."

Billie glanced toward the exit. "We need to head off."

Connor let out a low chuckle. "No rebel, you're not going anywhere."

"What's going on with you?" Shona snapped to him

The former rebel leader merely grinned in response.

Mike instantly moved in front of Billie, while Frank and Luka edged closer to Ray. Show Pony's hand was resting on his gun as he watched Connor moving further into the room.

"Shona," Billie hissed. "He's-"

But Billie never had a chance to finish. At that moment, Draculoid after Draculoid rushed into the room, and quickly surrounded the band of rebels. Before the rebels had even digested what was happening, they were outnumbered almost three to one.

Connor, smirking, gestured to the horrified Billie. "Take Armstrong alive. The rest of them-" He shrugged, with a wily smile.

"NO!" Shona screamed. "DAVID!"

He stopped, turned and looked at her with distaste. "Kill her first, will you, boys? She's annoyed me for years."

Shona covered her mouth with her hand, and sobbed.

Billie Joe jumped forward. "You son of a bitch!" He aimed his gun straight at Connor. "Is that how you talk to a woman? You traitor."

"He's been re-programmed," Frank grabbed at Billie. "It's not his fault."

"I don't give a fuck!"

"Billie, you gotta calm down."

Billie shoved out at Frank, who went flying straight into some of the watching Dracs. The Dracs who were helpfully standing nearest to the exit.

"GO!" Billie shrieked.

Before anyone had the chance to realise they had a free route out, more chaos erupted when more bodies piled into the room, yelling obscenities and instantly opened fire on the Draculoids.

From their clothing, Billie, from his position on the floor, could only assume that were part of Sapphire, the friends Shona had mentioned had been following them, and they'd arrived on the scene just in time.

"_Get the fuck out of there!"_ A voice shrieked.

Pandemonium ensued.

Ray gun blasts shot across the room from left to right, and screams and cries filled the space as Drac and rebel were shot down in the me-lee. Black smoke was everywhere, it was impossible to see a thing.

Connor was panicking, yelling orders at the Draculoids.

Mike and Billie, shouting to Frank and Ray, ran toward the exit, making quick work of the two Dracs baring their way.

Billie looked quickly over his shoulder, his eyes locking for a second with Shona, who was stood to one side of the room, Ray at her side.

She gestured at him furiously. Her message was clear:

_'Get the Hell out!'_

Billie saw her and Ray, who was evidently looking desperately for Frank, fight their way to the other exit, Show Pony not far behind them. Frank was just behind Billie, Luka at his side, screaming at the top of his voice for Ray. Luka pulled Frank along with him, clinging onto to him despite Frank effort's to wrench his way free, to get back to Ray. Finally, the four men fell through the door, and found the entrance to the tunnels just beyond it. Billie grinned. "Would you look at that?"

"Just go!" Mike snapped.

"What about Ray, Show Pony and the rest?" Frank gasped.

Billie gestured helplessly. "They're smart Frank, they'll find a way out. Come on!"

Frank knew he had no choice. With one last hopeless look over his shoulder, he and Luka dived after Mike and Billie, throwing themselves into the unknown blackness.

A few minutes later, after the insanity and smoke had cleared slightly, Connor stood perfectly still, staring at the tunnel. Only five or six rebels were dead, Billie Joe and his closest allies not among them. He rubbed his hands together, unsure what to do. His orders had been clear, cut the criminals off, herd them into a room, and destroy them, except for Billie Joe, who was required. He had failed miserably, and he would pay the price.

"We have to get after them..." Connor mused, more to himself.

Not one drone moved in response.

"_What the hell-?"_

All pairs of eyes in the room turned to see a very angry looking Saint striding towards them, his hands balled into fists at his side. He stood perfectly still, taking in the destruction in front of him, seeing the dead bodies of rebels and Draculoids on the ground.

He didn't recognise any of the bodies.

Saint's face darkened.

"Where is he?" He spat, grabbing the nearest Draculoid around the throat. "Where is Billie Joe Armstrong? I heard you had him and his friends trapped! I came straight here!"

The Drac didn't even struggle in his grasp. Of course it didn't. It hadn't been ordered to.

"He and the rest of the rebels escaped, Sir."

Saint tightened his grip. "How?"

"Through the tunnel. They had help, Sir."

Within seconds, the Draculoid was dead at Saint's feet, it's neck snapped like a twig.

Saint whirled around furiously, his eyes darting from one drone to the next. "Who is in charge here?"

Connor moved toward him, his head lowered in respect. "I am, sir."

"Where is Michael?" Saint hissed, leaning in toward Connor, lifting his chin so the zombie before him was forced to lift his head and look at him. "He was ordered to lead you."

Connor blinked. "He didn't come, Sir."

Saint's eyes blazed. "Didn't he? Isn't that interesting?" He peered into the tunnel entrance. "You are certain a number of rebels ran this way?"

"Yes, Sir," the other man replied. "At least four. And Armstrong was among them."

Saint considered this, and then nodded. "Very well. Instruct a patrol of Draculoids to get after them, after ensuring every possible exit is blocked. And bring me a plan of the tunnels at once." Fury flashed across his face. "I want these rebels _found_. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

Saint gestured. "Go now!"

He watched the man hurrying away, and then took a deep breath. Billie Joe Armstrong was so close. He'd be his soon enough.

Saint ran a hand through his hair. He had to put revenge to one side for now. Before he could face his past, and deal with it, he had some bad news to deliver.

She needed to be told about Michael. The Killjoy-turned-Exterminator was no longer trustworthy, and the Coordinator would have to deal with him. One way or another.

XXX

The Co-ordinator had returned to the Operating wing, watching her very small, and select, group of doctors as they dashed around the room, moving from their patient and then over to the monitors, showing scans of his brainwaves. She frowned, her arms crossed across her chest, glaring at any other person who was foolish enough to catch her eye.

"What is taking so long?" She finally snapped. "He must have the information stored somewhere. He's probably hiding it." Her eyes narrowed. "Go deeper. Wipe everything, if you have to, to get to what we need."

The Head surgeon, his Scarecrow mask removed as it hindered his work, turned to regard her, somewhat disdainfully. "With all due respect, madam," he replied; "If we push to far, we will kill him. The subject is very weak."

"Who cares about his worthless life?" She hissed in response.

The lead doctor took a deep breath. "You did, ma'am. And if you, and the Controller, wish us to gain every single little piece of knowledge he knows, which I understood was the requirement, then killing him will not do any of us any favours!"

She was clenching her fists, and giving him a look of pure dislike. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room, except for the steady noise of the machines keeping their patient alive, as all the other doctors had paused to watch the exchange. The Co-ordinator suddenly noticed this. Rounding on the other physicians in anger, she spat; "What are you all looking at? We need to find out what the rebel knew about this weapon. We can learn no more from the other one, so we must discover the truth from this rat." She lowered her voice. "He was a Killjoy, their leader even. He has to know something."

The doctor nodded. "Lets hope so," he replied, and then raised an eyebrow. "For all of our sakes, ma'am."

He turned away then, returning to his work. The Co-ordinator watched him for a moment, and then spun on her heel, and marched from the room. Once outside, and on her own, she closed her eyes tightly, bringing a shaky hand up to her mouth. If they didn't find out what this weapon was, what it could do, and where the rebels were hiding it, her life would not be worth living. Literally. She would be finished, they all would be.

Suddenly, her communicator buzzed loudly, startling her. With an annoyed snarl, she answered the call quickly.

"Yes?"

Saint's voice, sounding somewhat panicky, greeted her.

"_At last! I've been trying to reach you! Where have you been?"_

She frowned. The communicators had no signal in the operating room, due to the machines. Of course, he had no idea where she was, and she intended to keep it that way. The fewer people she had to entrust with her secret, the better. Especially someone she truly believed would happily betray to take over her role in the company.

"I was out of range," she responded quickly. "What is wrong?"

"_The rebels attacked,_" he hissed, "_I've just arrived at the education centre to get briefed on what happened."_ When she didn't respond at once, his tone grew louder, and more impatient. "_If you remember, we were informed of this by the rebel leader, Connor?"_

She quietly seethed, annoyed at his attitude. "Yes, of course I remember! What happened? Have the rebels all been captured, or killed?"

A pause. And then; "_According to Connor, who responded to reprogramming perfectly by the way, a few were killed. Unfortunately, the main group escaped."_

She froze. "How many?"

"_All of them."_

"ALL of them?" She exclaimed, now shouting into her wrist. "Was the ambush not put into place?"

"_Exactly as planned. The rebels were hopelessly outnumbered and Connor knew what he was doing."_

She mused for a second. "And Michael?"

Another pause. "_Michael wasn't here_."

Her wrist shook slightly. "He was ordered to-"

"_I know what his orders were, and I'm sure he did too. But he didn't obey them, ma'am. He wasn't there." _His voice became strained. "_From what Connor reported to me, our forces could have done with their general today."_

She was trembling with anger.

"_Madam_?" Saint prompted.

Finally, she seemed to contain her emotions once more, and then asked him; "How did they escape, Saint?"

"_They had help from some Citizens, apparently. Connor's old gang, I assume. Plus..._" There was almost something akin to glee in his tone as he added; "_They're good._"

Her face darkened at once, and her voice grew colder. "Is that so?" She muttered. Hate flashed across her face, and her eyes were blazing. "Well, they are in the City now, out of the safety of the Zones. They are in _our_ territory now. Lets see how 'good' they really are." She raised her voice. "Send out Draculoid patrols, as many as you can. Find them. I want all of them captured or killed before this day is over. Is that clear?"

"Crystal." He returned. "_From what I've heard, a few of the rebels made their escape through the sewer tunnels. We're tracking those. I'm leading the mission myself now._"

She managed a small smile at this. "Good. Find them for me, Saint."

"_I'll report back soon._"

And with that, he disconnected.

She stayed still for a few moments, trying to control her fury. How dare Michael ignore her orders. He had never done so before. She could feel dread building deep within her. What was happening to the man she loved? Was Saint right, was she losing control? She had worked so long and so tirelessly to turn the former Killjoy into the perfect Exterminator, her very own plaything. And, if she were honest, she had developed very strong, very real, feelings for him. She couldn't lose him now. If another session of re-programming was required, then so be it. She knew the dangers, knew a second dose could fry Michael's brain but rather that than allowing these sickening examples of free thoughts to continue. She was very aware that he had stopped taking his drugs, but had chosen to let that pass for now, with her concerns for this weapon being at the forefront of her mind. Perhaps that had been a mistake.

She had been too lenient with Michael. That was wrong. She would be tougher with him from now on.

Turning back towards the Operating room, her eyes narrowed. Someone would pay for Michael being drawn away from her. And she knew exactly who.

She shoved open to the door, and stormed back in. All the doctors froze what they were doing, and turned to look at her.

"Get out." She told them.

The leader cleared his throat, and moved toward her. "It would not be a good idea to stop the process-"

His words fell away when he saw the look on her face.

"I said," she managed, her voice trembling in anger, "GET OUT!"

The whole team exchanged glances, and then quickly filed out, leaving the Coordinator alone. She waited for them to go, and then turned back toward Gerard. Her expression was one of complete viciousness as she walked up to him slowly. He, naturally, didn't move. She leaned down, pressing her elbows into his arm, and whispered into his ear.

"So, you're fighting back against me, are you? You think you're getting through to him, don't you? I don't know how you are forcing your way into his dreams but I'll make you stop. Do you hear me?"

She left him then, moving over to the controls to the left of him. "I wonder," she smirked. "Will you feel this, rebel?"

She pulled at levers and turned switches, incensed. And then watched with satisfaction as the man before her arched his back, and began to writhe in agony. He opened his mouth and screamed. She smiled at him coldly. "Stay out of his dreams, Poison. He's mine now."

After watching his torture for a few minutes, she fiddled with the controls again, and brought his agony to an end.

He laid perfectly still, as if nothing untoward had occurred.

"It's nearly time for you to die," she noted, with a sneer. "Then I'll be rid of you."

At that moment, a Draculoid entered the room behind her and moved closer, eyeing her nervously

"Ma'am?"

"What is it?"

"My apologies. We have received word. Your presence is required by the Controller."

She frowned. "Of course."

With one last evil glare at Poison, she rushed quickly from the room, gesturing for the two Draculoids to join her. She didn't want to go alone, not with rogue rebels loose in the City.

Silence fell once again. After ensuring the coast was clear, and that the Coordinator wouldn't be returning any moment soon, Michael stepped out of the shadows. He stared after her for some seconds, wondering if he was doing the right thing. Going behind her back, sneaking around, this was all alien to him. He was a soldier, he did as he was told, it was as simple as that.

Somehow, he was changing. He hadn't decided whether he liked the changes or not yet.

He wanted answers. And every instinct was telling him he would find them through the door in front of him.

With a deep breath, he pushed open those doors, and walked into the room.

He quickly saw that it was an operating theatre, and it wasn't empty.

There was a man, completely naked and unresponsive, sleeping on a bed in the centre of the room. He was surrounded by equipment clearing recording his every, no matter how slim, movement. Michael moved closer to the bed somewhat wearily. As he drew nearer, he saw, to his complete shock, that the sleeping man linked up to all the machinery was the exact same man from his dreams.

Michael stumbled in shock, as he gazed at the comatose man before him.

He was stick thin, and his skin was pale, even ghostly, and cold to the touch. His lips were blue, and his hair was cropped, though had evidently grown over the time he'd been trapped there. He had not even been given the respect of being covered up. It made Michael feel very uneasy, knowing this man had been kept in these conditions.

Michael looked at the machines that had been keeping the man alive, and frowned. Had it not been for the steady bleeping, he would have assumed this man was dead. He was being fed through a tube, and clearly would not have been able to breath on his own, without the wires keeping his heart beating and his blood pumping.

Why had this man been kept alive and how long had he been there? Who knew he was here? And why in such horrific conditions?

And what had Michael's dreams meant?

Unable to think clearly, he removed his mask, and placed it on the bed.

"Who are you?" The Exterminator whispered.

He was so preoccupied, he didn't hear the door opening and closing behind him.

"_I didn't want this to happen so soon._"

Michael started in surprise, and turned to see the Coordinator and two Draculoids entering the room. She was giving him a strange look, a mixture of annoyance and excitement.

"This is earlier then I had planned," she told him. "But today is as good a day as any."

"Who is he?" Michael enquired. "If he's sick, why is he here and not in the Medical Centre?"

She walked up to him, throwing the sleeping man an uninterested glance. "I am angry with you Michael. You have ignored my orders, allowing rebels to escape, and now you have entered this room, despite it being out of bounds to you." She lightly stroked his face with her finger. "And _now_ you have the nerve to question _me_?"

He instantly bowed his head. "I'm sorry, Ma'am."

She put her arms around him tightly and embraced him. "I can't stay angry with you for long, my love." She leaned forward, and pressed her lips to his. He responded, and the kiss grew more passionate. Finally, she pulled away, walked over to the prone man, fixed him with a cold stare, and then smiled.

She beckoned Michael closer.

"It's time for you to meet the great Party Poison, Michael. The leader, and last of, the feared Killjoys." Her voice dripped with malice.

Michael furrowed his brow in confusion. "You told me he was dead, ma'am."

She nodded. "And that tiny white lie was unfortunately necessary. He has been very useful to me, giving us the Intel we needed to send you into all of those rebel bases, and wipe them out." She smirked. "Without Party Poison, all of those rebels would still be alive." She scrapped down Poison's face with her nail, leaving a trail of blood. "He may be a vegetable, but he has his uses."

Michael looked on, quietly. There was something about all of this that made him very queasy. The Coordinator was taking obvious pleasure in tormenting a defenceless man, and he didn't like it. Especially as this was the man from his dreams. The man who had spoken to him with such genuine love. The man who had urged him to "wake up."

"I dreamt about him, Ma'am," he whispered. "For nights now, I've seen him, spoken to him." He pointed. "This very man, though I've never seen him before. How is that possible?"

She shrugged. "We know so little about the subconscious, Michael. We cannot control it. That is why I told you to ignore the dreams." She gestured to her two Draculoids to guard the door, and then she stepped closer to Michael.

"It is time for you to finish your mission, my sweet. I ordered you to destroy the remaining Killjoys." She pointed at the helpless man. "There is the last. Complete you task, and kill him.

Michael eyed her, and then looked at Poison, somewhat hesitantly.

He didn't move.

She gave him a little push. "Go on, Michael. Finish it."

Michael took a deep breath, and composed himself. He knew he had to follow her instructions, no matter how many of his dreams this man had invaded. She was his superior, and she was to be obeyed. He stepped forward, and raised his gun, preparing to fire.

The sleeping man whispered one word. A word that changed everything.

"_Mikey..."_

Michael stopped dead.

There was a low gasp from the woman behind him.

_'So, she heard him too.'_

"Who is Mikey?" He whispered.

She recovered from the shock of hearing the man speak impressively. "Ignore it, it's nothing but insane mumblings. Kill him quickly."

Michael continued to peer at the man with interest. He was still comatose. "Other people have called me Mikey, you know."

She blinked.

"That is not important. Mikey is short for Michael, is it not? Finish this now, so we can finally move on."

He glanced at her. "Move on from what?"

She was growing impatient. "We need him dead, and you need to kill him-"

"Why?"

"Do not question me!"

He took a step closer to the sleeping man, reached out, and touched his hair.

"His hair is shorter than it is in my dreams. It's blood red there. Red suits him." He spoke more to himself than to her. "He's powerful when I dream about him, strong, a leader. And, he loves me. I feel it. When I'm with him, I actually _feel_."

She slammed her fist down on a table beside them, startling him. "Just end his life, Exterminator. Do it now."

Michael fixed her with a cold glare. "No."

She stopped, opened her mouth and closed it again. She clearly had not heard right.

"What did you say?"

He smiled. "I said, no."

She took a step toward him. "Don't deny me this one request, after everything I've done for you."

He actually chuckled. "Everything you've done for me? The thing is, I don't know what to believe any more."

"Just destroy him, Michael." She took his hand. "How many lives have you ended? His is just another. Do it and this is all over."

Michael pulled away from her. "It's murder! I won't do it."

"He is the leader of the Killjoys-"

"He's helpless, he can't defend himself. I'm not going to execute a man who cannot defend himself. Not this man."

The Coordinator grabbed at Michael and, to his surprise, pinned him against the wall, her own ray gun now touching his chin.

"I have given you _everything_ I have, everything I am," she hissed. "I have taken you into my home, into my bed, I have risked my career, my very _life_, for you, Michael-"

"I never asked you to," he interjected.

She slapped him hard across the face.

"You insolent rebel!"

He stopped. "What?"

She gaped at him, realising what she had said. Releasing her hold on him, she stepped away and turned her back, covering her face with her hands. "I didn't mean that."

"You called me a rebel," he said, softly. "Why?"

"Forget it," she told him.

"Forget it? Like my dreams? Like anything that I can't explain?" He took a step toward her. "Why do I dream about this man? Who is he to me? Why does he call me Mikey?"

She regarded him coldly. "You would prefer to listen to a man in a dream, than to me?"

He moved ever closer. "He's not the only one to call me that. That girl, the child I brought here, she called me it too. And the rebel, the Killjoy Jet Star, he referred to me as Mikey as well." His voice gained an octave as he grew ever more emotional. "Is that my real name?"

"Get a hold of yourself!" She snapped to him. "This behaviour is insane, Michael. Can't you see that? You are Exterminator Michael of Better Living Industries, you are the man I love and you are the future of this corporation." She moved to him quickly placing both her hands on the side of his face. "All you have to do is this one thing for me, my love. Just kill him. Like the others."

Michael's eyes widened at that. "All the people I've killed for you," he said, so quietly, she had to strain to him. "I never questioned. I am now. Why did you want me to kill them. Why did Jet Star talk to me as if he knew me?" A lone tear fell from his eye as he gazed pleadingly at her. "He told me he loved me. I did know him, didn't I?"

"I love you," she told, softly.

"I don't think I feel the same. I don't think I feel anything for you."

She stared at him, unable to respond. The hurt was coursing through her.

Finally, she contained her emotions. "Enough of this!" She grabbed Michael by the back of his neck, and forced him forward. "No more of this pointless drivel. Do as you have been ordered, Michael. Kill this rebel. Now."

Michael, his gun still grasped in his right hand, approached the man once more. He couldn't prevent the tears from falling now, although he wasn't fully aware why he was crying, as he pointed his gun at the man's face.

That tiny voice inside of him came again. '_You can't kill him. You can't kill Gerard.'_

"Gerard?" He muttered.

The woman froze. "What?"

He turned and faced her. "His name is Gerard, isn't it?" He looked down at the gun. "How do I know that? I've never met him." A pause. "Have I?"

"KILL HIM!" She exploded, and then, more quietly, trying to contain her anger: "Do it now. Kill him!"

He shook his head. "You've lied to me."

She was furious. She wanted to kill them both. It was taking every ounce of her self control not to raise her own gun, and blow him away.

"I said, kill him."

"No."

She marched up to him. "You are weak," she snarled, leaning right into his face. "You do not have the strength I thought you had.

"I won't kill him," Michael said again, his eyes locked with hers. "I won't kill anyone for you again."

With a sigh, she looked away from him. She turned her attention back to the sleeping man, and her eyes narrowed. She had never felt such hatred for any person as she did for this man now. Even though he was no longer a threat to her, it had made no difference.

He had still won.

"No," she hissed. "This ends today." She threw Michael a look of pure disdain. "If you will not complete the task I have set for you, then I shall do it for you..."

Michael's eyes widened. He was trembling all over. '_No...'_

The Coordinator raised her weapon, and smirked. "Gerard Way still dies today..."

He didn't even hesitate. As she aimed her ray gun at the man lying on the bed, and stepped closer to him, Michael opened fire.

She took three shots, in point black range, to the back of her head.

He stopped firing when he saw her stumble forwards. As if in slow motion, the Coordinator fell, face first, not even having the chance to cry out. Her head was turned slightly to one side, her mouth in a "O" shape, her eyes open wide.

She lay perfectly still. There was no blood obviously but that made no difference. She was gone.

Exterminated.

He stared at her, trying to digest what had just happened.

The Coordinator's Draculoids started forward, guns raised, ready to bring down her killer. Michael moved faster, all of his training coming into play. He spun on the spot, blasting both of them where they stood before either could get one shot off. They fell to the ground, close to the broken body of the Coordinator.

Michael paused, his gun still covering the bodies, his eyes wide with shock.

_'What the fuck had he done?'_

He jumped violently when a noise filled the room, a shrill, horrible screech that made his very skin crawl.

Michael whirled around nervously, trying to get his head clear. The alarm siren had been set off because he had used a ray gun in the Detention Centre. Draculoids would already be on their way and if he was found in that room, he was finished.

However, Michael was frozen to the spot, gasping for breath, as he stared at the dead Draculoids at his feet. He knew he should run, knew they would be there soon but it was as if he was caught in a dream. Or perhaps, a nightmare. Turning slightly, he stepped gingerly toward the body of his lover, her unseeing eyes gazing up in his direction. He covered his mouth with his hand as he backed away from her, shaking his head in disbelief.

He'd killed her. He'd destroyed the only person in his life for a man he didn't even know. He hadn't even thought before he'd acted. It had been pure instinct. She'd threatened his life and he'd had no choice but to protect him.

Grimacing as the high-pitched scream of the alarm ripped through him, Michael approached the sleeping man carefully, pausing right in front of him. He leaned forward, gazing down at the man's face.

He flinched when he saw the man's eyelids move, and for a crazy second, he wondered if he was about to awaken. The man actually stirred, and let out a tiny whimper.

Quick as a flash, Michael took of his cloak, and covered the man with it, giving him some pride back and also desperate to keep him warm.

He then leaned into him again, and whispered in his ear:

"Who are you?" He moaned quietly. "How do I know you?"

XXX

_With a grunt of effort, Korse swung the weapon, striking Gerard across the face, sending the Killjoy sprawling. He lay on his stomach, whimpering, trying to clear his head. The fire was blazing now, the flames hotter and higher than ever. He looked up into the cold eyes of his enemy._

_"You belong to me," Korse hissed._

_Gerard then felt his ankles being grabbed by the other man, as he was dragged unceremoniously across the ground, and then rolled over onto his back. He stared up at his tormentor, his blood running cold at the sight before him. Korse was crouched over him, the plank that had magically appeared a few moments ago now held in both hands, and raised high above his head, as he lorded over the naked young man. Korse's eyes were flaming, his face splattered with Gerard's blood. He looked like something out of a horror movie._

_At that moment, it dawned on Gerard that this could be his own private never-ending horror movie. He as the helpless victim, Korse the unstoppable bogeyman._

_With a yell of exhilaration, Korse brought the wood down hard on the Killjoy twice, gaining a pained cry with each blow. He laughed loudly, delirious from the agony and hurt he was causing, as Gerard could only writhe on the floor at his feet. Korse had won the battle raging between them, they both knew it._

_And Korse would never stop._

_Gleefully, he grabbed for the naked Gerard._

_The Killjoy gasped._

_"No!"_

_Korse only chuckled as he pulled his own belt free and started to beat at his victim with the belt, causing the other man to cry out repeatedly. Gerard pulled himself to his knees, hopelessly trying to crawl away, but there was nowhere to go. All he could do was crouch there, and take it._

_"Don't you understand," Korse hissed in the other man's ear as he whipped him, "that every word you say means nothing? This is what counts, you on your knees and me standing over you. Slave and Master." He threw the belt aside and leant in closer, hissing into Gerard's ear. "This is what matters. You are mine and you always will be. You know it, Way. You'll never be free of me. I'm always here, always with you."_

_With a smirk, he forced his finger into Gerard's tight hole, delighting in his victim's cry of horror._

_"Can you feel me now?"_

_Gerard could do nothing to stop him. Korse was right. There was no escape, no end to the torture. There was no escaping Korse. Even in death._

_"Mine," the evil man hissed. "You're mine."_

_With that, he thrusted forward and penetrated Gerard with a shout of triumph._

_Gerard cried out in anguish._

"_That's it," Korse taunted. "Scream for me, baby."_

_'You're so pretty when you scream.'_

_Gerard was disgusted with himself. He lay there, not fighting back, not struggling, simply taking it. His thoughts drifting to those he had left behind, and how relieved he was that they couldn't see him now. Nothing but a whore spreading his legs for the most vile man imaginable._

_A soft voice in the darkness tutted. _

_Gerard turned his head in the direction of the noise, and flinched violently when he saw Bert standing there, watching, a look of disgust on his face._

"_Did I die so you could be a his victim, Gee?"_

_Gerard shook his head desperately. "Leave me alone, Bert."_

_Korse continued to thrust. He hadn't reacted to Bert, or to Gerard's words. For him, there was nobody but Gerard._

_Bert knelt down beside his agonising friend. "It's not him keeping you prisoner. It's you, and your fear of him. You have to fight, Gee. It's the only way you're gonna be free of him and this place. They need you. He needs you."_

_Gerard blinked. "He?"_

_Bert nodded. "Listen. Can't you hear him?"_

_Gerard did as Bert instructed. He listened intently. And, to his shock, he heard him. The words, spoken softly and with so much fear, they filled the tiny room. _

"_**Who are you? How do I know you?"**_

_Korse paused mid-thrust, breathing harshly. He'd heard them too. He snarled, grabbing Gerard's hair, pulled out of him, and then slammed back in. Gerard's eyes met Bert's, and his former friend smiled knowingly._

"_Figure it out, Gee," he repeated, his words slow and meaningful. "Beat him. You can do this."_

_And then Bert was gone. _

_Gerard gritted his teeth. Those words, he could still hear them, feel them even. He knew what he had to do. With a roar of "NO!", he began to struggle ferociously, kicking out at Korse with all his might. Korse grunted as Gerard's blows hit home. The Killjoy struck out repeatedly until at last, Korse released his hold on him and Gerard was able to scramble clear, leaving Korse to stare after him in shock._

_The Killjoy stood, drawing himself up to his full height, and stared hatefully back. "You're never touching me again."_

XXX

Michael reached out towards the sleeping man. Just as his finger tips almost touched the prone man's face, the Exterminator froze. The alarm was driving him insane. They would be coming, he knew it. He'd helped to train them, after all. Very soon, the whole area would be crawling with his Draculoids and he knew he couldn't be found there. Not with her. Not after what he'd done.

He edged away from the bed, away from the unconscious man. The stirrings and whimpering had stopped, and the man was now lying there, quite peacefully. Michael shook his head, turning away hurriedly, and instantly his eyes were drawn to the broken body of the Co-ordinator, lying at an awkward angle, her Draculoid guards close by.

Michael let out a low sob. He had to get out of there. He felt sick, weak, as if he was going to pass out. He couldn't stay there a second longer. He had to leave.

Every instinct was screaming the same thing at him. _Run._

And then, the flashing lights started, being stage two of the Detention Centre's alarm system. Stage three would be the gas. He moaned, covering his eyes with his arm. Not even caring that his mask was still placed beside the Killjoy's head, Michael made for the door, a shaky hand covering his mouth.

He didn't look back.

**XXX**

"_**Who are you? How do I know you?"**_

_The softly spoken words echoed around the tiny room. The two men, locked in their eternal struggle, both froze._

_Gerard recovered first, his eyes narrowing. He let a furious cry, sending Korse sprawling, and then dragging himself to his feet. _

"_Did you hear that?" Gerard spat, breathing harshly. "Did you?"_

_Korse merely smirked. He didn't need to reply. His silence proved everything. He'd heard the voice, loud and clear. And, judging from his face, he knew his control was already slipping._

"_That was Mikey's voice," the younger man whispered. "I know his voice anywhere. He's out there, the other side of that door, and he's waiting for me."_

"_You can't help him," Korse told him. "You're finished. There's no escape, no getting through those flames, let alone the locked door beyond them. Accept it, Gerard. There's you, and there's me. That's all there is..."_

"_You're wrong!"_

_Gerard turned around quickly, making his way over to the flames, a hand up to protect himself from the scorching heat of the flames. He could see his target. That locked door, just the other side of the fire. Waiting for him. And through that, he knew they were waiting. His brothers._

_They needed him._

_Frank..._

"_You want to burn to death?" Korse spat, his voice growing louder, as he picked himself up. "Be my guest, you Killjoy fool."_

_Slowly, Gerard turned and faced him. "You got that fucking right, you bastard," Gerard stated. "I am a Killjoy. And I've fucking had enough of you. Time for me to leave."_

_His tormentor began to chuckle. The very sound coursed through Gerard and he balled his hands into fists._

_Then, his face broke out into a wide smile. He knew how he much look. Insane._

_Korse had stopped laughing._

_With a shout of outrage, Gerard raced forward, and leaped into the red flames._

_He closed his eyes tightly._

XXX

Shona and Ray were making their way as quickly but carefully as possible through the school building, hiding from any groups of Draculoids that came their way. They knew they had to get out of there, that they were trapped like rats and the area was crawling with Draculoids all searching for them. Theyhad no idea where the others had gone, and no way of reaching them. Any attempts to use their communicators would be intercepted by the enemy. There only hope was to keep moving, heading for the rear exit that Shona could only hope was less guarded. If they could get out of the building, and then out of the city, then they had the opportunity to contact Frank, Billie or any other survivor and see who was safe. Shona was only too aware that John Connor was leading the search for her, he knew her movements and her methods. She would have to be at her calmest if she were to outsmart him.

The man she loved. Gone forever.

Shona let out a low sob and Ray looked over at her.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she snapped back. "Just keep going!"

"It's Connor, isn't it?"

She paused, gasping for breath, leaning over. "I've loved him for years. I can't believe-"

"My lover was reprogrammed too," Ray whispered. "He pointed a gun at me, but changed his mind at the last moment." He grabbed her hand. "They can fight back. Mikey did, he couldn't kill me. Connor might fight too..."

A stunned gasp made them both freeze, and Ray's hand went instantly to his gun.

"Who's there?" He snapped.

"Ray?" A tiny voice muttered.

Before Ray had a chance to even show his shock, let alone reply, a ball of energy threw itself on him, embracing him, kissing him, and sobbing in his ear.

"I thought you were dead, Ray!"

Gently, but firmly; Ray pushed the crazed bundle of joy away, and looked at it properly for the first time.

Now, it was his turn to let out a cry of happiness.

"My God! Grace!"

He held her to him tightly, hugging her, not letting her go.

Grace giggled in his ear. "I've missed you," she told him.

"Me too, baby. Me too."

There was a low cough from behind them, bringing Ray back to his senses.

He placed the child on the ground, ruffling her unruly hair. "Are you okay, kiddo?"

She nodded, still grinning from ear to ear.

"Grace," Shona snapped, grabbing her by the arm. "Why are you here?"

"We saw you leave," She told her. "And heard you say into your communicator that you were going to meet the rebels." She shrugged. "We thought we'd wait and see what happened."

Ray gave Shona an unimpressed look.

Shona ignored him.

"You have to get away from here-"

Before Grace answered her, Ray spoke up. "No, Grace is one of us, Shona. She's sticking with me."

Shona opened her mouth to argue but soon realised it was useless. She sighed.

"Okay," she paused, eyeing the girl again. "Wait. What do you mean, 'we'?"

Grace grinned. "Bea is here too. She's scared though."

"We have to get out of here," Ray snapped. "Now."

He took Grace's hand but she pulled away from him. "No, I'm not leaving my best friend."

Ray and Shona exchanged looks.

"Alright Gracie," Ray responded. "You get her, then we need to get to safety."

They watched as Grace tore over to the other side of the room, and pulled a very scared and timid looking child out of their hiding place. She then pulled her forward, toward Ray, who was looking, worriedly, over at the door.

"Jet Star," Grace stated proudly, gesturing to her friend, who was now standing beside her, clutching her hand.

Ray finally turned to look at the child, and then stopped dead. His mouth fell open, and he began to shake.

Grace didn't notice. She continued her introduction. "This is my best friend, Bandit."

Ray visibly shook at the sound of her name. "How-" He gasped, and then paused, running a shocked hand through his hair.

Bandit gave Grace a questioning glance, slightly perturbed by this strange man. "Hi," she told him, and gave him a small smile.

"Jet," Shona finally managed, moving back towards them from the look out, and noticing Ray's stunned reaction for the first time. "What's wrong?"

Ray was staring at Bandit. He took a step toward her, clearly making the girl nervous, so he stopped. He closed his eyes, and then opened them again, as if he expected her to disappear. It was obvious that he could not believe his eyes.

"No..."

Bandit gaped back at Ray. "Who are you?" She asked him. "Have I done something wrong?"

"Can't be." Ray muttered. "Can't be you."

Shona was glaring daggers. "You're scaring her, Ray"

When he didn't reply immediately, she grabbed his arm. "Jet Star!"

He looked at her, his eyes meeting hers slowly. He looked like he'd seen a ghost. She shuddered under his scrutiny.

"We have to keep moving," Shona whispered, deciding she could get to the bottom of his behaviour later. Now, all that mattered was getting them, especially the girls, to safety. "You take Grace, I'll bring Bandit."

Ray took no notice of her suggestion. Instead, he asked her; "How long has she been here?"

Shona's patience was at an end. "Why does it matter?" She gestured angrily. "If we don't move away from here, we are all going to get caught!"

Ray stared at the children again, who were exchanging confused looks.

"It matters because he never knew," Ray muttered, more to himself than to them. "He never knew she was alive..." His voice broke, as he added; "Now it's too late."

Shona shook her head helplessly. She didn't understand a word. "_Who_ didn't know?"

"Her father."

XXX

Michael ran blindly. He had no plan, didn't even know where he was going. All he knew was that he needed to get away. The shrill noise of the alarm was forcing its way into him, taking control of him, and he covered his ears with his hands, desperate to shut it out. It was useless. That sound was everywhere, and the flashing lights were disorientating him. He had to get away from there, he had to put the noise, and the lights, and the very images inside his head behind him. He knew it was pointless, that noise, those memories would follow him forever. He had killed her, his lover, his confident. She had been more than that. She had been his very _life_. The only life he had known.

And he had, in a split second of insanity, murdered her for a man he didn't even know. What had he done? What was happening to him?

He kept going, knowing he had to be far away from that room before the guards, or worst, Saint, came to investigate. He wasn't looking ahead so when he slammed into another body, he gasped in surprise, raising his ray gun at once.

"Excuse me, Sir." A low voice muttered. "I heard the alarm and-"

"Move aside," Michael barked. He didn't need to hear another word. If the Scarecrow didn't get out of his way, he'd blast it. A cold smile spread over Michaels face. What difference would one more killing make?

The Scarecrow didn't move. "Is there a problem, Sir?"

Michael didn't reply, only managing to shake his head dumbly. The alarm continued to blast it's heinous noise all around them, as the two men regarded each other with distrust.

The drone spoke up again. "Exterminator?"

Michael edged away from the Scarecrow, holding a wary hand out in front of him, though his gun was anything but steady in his grip. He kept moving backwards until his back touched the wall behind him.

"Keep away from me!"

The drone didn't comply at once, much to Michael's astonishment. Instead, it stepped closer to him. He was amazed by it's audacity. No Scarecrow ever went against an order from an Exterminator, the result would be immediate ghosting. But yet, this 'Crow was not taking the hint. In fact, it was getting braver.

"Exterminator Michael, what's wrong?" A pause. "Did you sound the alarm?"

"I told you to leave me." He snarled, using his arm to try and ward off this unwanted attention.

"Where is your mask, Exterminator?"

He stared back at the drone, his mouth opening and closing stupidly. "I.." He stammered. "I..."

The 'Crow took a step closer, causing Michael to instantly recoil in alarm. "Keep away!" He barked.

The other man paused. A beat passed, and then, he leaned in and muttered; "Michael?"

Michael drew away from the newcomer, pressing his back ever further into the wall, his gun clasped uselessly in his hand. He couldn't raise it, couldn't defend himself. He couldn't stand any of this any longer. He just wanted it over.

Very softly, the masked man whispered, as he continued to stare at him intently; "Mikey?"

Michael froze. He gaped at the other man in shock.

"Mikey?" The 'Crow tried again. "What's happened?" The newcomer looked up then, gazing past Michael, at the room just beyond him. Realisation seemed to hit the masked man, and, letting out sharp intake of breath, he shoved past a very confused Michael, rushing to the operating room and pushing open the door, stopping dead just inside the room.

"What have you done?" He grimaced, his eyes fixated on the Co-ordinator's body. "What the _fuck_ have you done?"

Michael couldn't reply. He had nothing to say. He closed his eyes tightly, but that didn't shut out the horrific images. So much blood on his hands, all around him. He was bathing in it.

The Scarecrow was suddenly beside Michael again. To the Exterminator's shock, the man reached out and grabbed his wrist. "We have to get out of here." He snapped. "Come with me."

Michael pulled his arm away at once. "Who are you?" He demanded. "How do you know me?"

"Okay." The Scarecrow's desperation was now evident. "I know exactly who you are, and you know me. We go back a fucking long way, alright? Now, will you _fucking_ move?"

Michael didn't budge. "I've never seen you before in my life."

His new companion visibly bristled at that, letting out a low growl. "Mikey-"

"Show me who you are."

The masked man hesitated. "Not now, too many cameras." He gestured toward Michael. "Listen pal, you have to come with me right now," he urged him. "If you stay here, they'll kill you."

"But what about that man in there. Do you know-"

"Yes, I know him too." A beat. "And so do you."

The Exterminator furrowed his brow in confusion. "I've dreamt about him..." His voice trailed off. The other man watched him, waiting. The tension was now palpable. "You're just going to leave him?"

"We can't help him," came the abrupt reply. The pain was clear in the other's tone. "You can hear that loud siren, right buddy? That would be an alarm ringing because you decided to fire a ray gun blast in the fucking Detention Unit. The flashing lights are the second stage, next will be the gas, and if we get caught in that, we'll be unconscious in minutes. We'll never get him away before that happens, or before they get here to turn the fucking alarm off before the gas arrives. So now, I gotta choose between you. Live to fight another day, Mikey. Now, _come with me._"

Michael glanced back again at the room beyond that door, and the helpless man he knew was just beyond it. The Scarecrow reached out a hand to him once more.

Much more gently, he whispered; "You _have_ to trust me."

Michael stared at him. He had made up his mind. Grasping the other man's hand, he allowed himself to be pulled, and then, once through the hallway, he tore after him, as they headed together for the exit.

XXX

It was all calm again. The room was empty, and quiet once more, the shrill sound of the alarm shut out by the closed door. The lights flashed though, bright enough to harm the human eye. The body of the Co ordinator lay where the man she loved had left her, broken and defeated, her drone guards lying mere feet away. And, on the bed near by, was the man that had led to her downfall.

She had miscalculated. And it had cost her her life.

The soft, steady beeping of the life support machine grew louder, and faster. A warning that could not be heard, trying to signal that everything was about to change.

But the warning was futile.

Because nobody was watching the sleeping man. No one was there to see what was happening to him.

The machine was bleeping its warning even more loudly, but there wasn't a soul to hear it.

The man moaned softly.

His fingers wriggled, then his hand moved, and then, he lifted his arm.

He groaned, licking his lips.

His eyelids flickered.

_He stood, staring at the door before him. The flames were all around him, he could feel the fiery heat threatening to engulf him but he ignored it, concentrating fully on the doorway, and his escape._

_Korse was behind him, his cold, spiteful voice booming, trying to halt him, perhaps doing a better job of preventing him from pulling open that door than the flames enveloping him._

"_You won't ever be free of me. Do you hear me, you little bastard? You're mine, Gerard." _

_Gerard turned slowly, facing Korse, his hand on the door handle. _

"_You can't hurt me any more." He whispered. "See you, Korse."_

_He pulled open the door, the flames hot against his skin, scolding him. _

_There was nothing but darkness in front of him. He hesitated._

"_Or maybe," he muttered; "I won't."_

_He pulled open the door._

_Korse's last desperate cry rung in his ears as he stepped through the door._

"_NOOOOOOO!"_

_His voice was growing weaker. Gerard kept walking, further into the darkness. The flames, that room, Korse, he was almost clear of them now. They couldn't get to him. They were all fading._

_He could hear something else now, something new. There was a high pitched sound, getting louder, getting faster. He blinked, moaning in surprise. There was suddenly a light beaming, right in front of him, and it was getting nearer. He made desperately for that light, breaking into a run. All he knew what that he needed to get to it, that light was his salvation. It was his way out._

_The noise grew ever clearer, the light ever brighter._

_Closer. Keep going. So near now. The light was hurting his eyes but he didn't want to look away. He was so close now. Nearly there._

_Nearly home. Nearly with them again._

"_We'll carry on, we'll carry on."_

_They were waiting for him. They had never left him. _

_Ray. Frankie._

_That voice he had heard, calling for him. The voice that had shown him the way, shown him it was time to leave, time to put it all behind him. Time to leave Korse behind._

"_Who are you? Why do I know you?"_

_He needed him. He was waiting for him._

_Mikey._

"_I'm coming, Mikey."_

_The light surrounded him, engulfing him. He cried out, covering his face desperately with his arm._

_He kept going. _

_He was free._

_He was home. _

Gerard's eyes snapped open.

He blinked three times. All he could see was the light. It hurt him. He didn't want it. He wanted the dark again. He tried to move his arm, and then gasped. He couldn't move.

Why couldn't he move? Was something covering him? Where was he?

"Help," he managed, in a croaky, impossibly weak voice.

No one answered him.

The non stop, flashing light was blinding him. He whimpered.

"Too bright..."

It was everywhere. It was too much. He couldn't bear it. He could smell something too, something that scared him, something foul.

_'What that gas?'_

This was wrong. Everything was wrong.

He screamed, the first word that came into his head, in pure desperation:

"_MIKEY!"_

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**What can I say! This is so late! So sorry guys, thanks for being so patient! For anyone who didn't read my authors note, I went to Morrisoncon at the end of last month, and met Gerard and Mikey and basically, my head has been in the clouds since then! Forget me head, all of me! So this took a bit longer than it should have done! But I'm back now and I won't take so long again!**

**Enjoy this chapter! Thanks to Amy for checking it through for me!**

~x~

**Purifying Flame**

**Chapter Five.**

"_Mikey!"_

He coughed, his throat sore and raspy. His voice came out so weakly, he didn't sound anything like himself. He tried to sit up, squinting his eyes in pain from the screeching sound echoing around the small room. He couldn't feel his body, his limbs would not obey him. He felt like he had been a long way away for a very long time.

Perhaps he had been. He had no way of knowing.

"Hello?" He gasped, pointlessly trying to shout. "Is anyone there? Mikey? Ray?" He let out a low sob, covering his ears with his hands, trying to shut out the horrible, deafening siren. "Frank? Are you there? _Help me..."_

The noise of the alarm seemed to only get louder as it ripped through him. Gerard blinked his eyelids a few times, attempting to focus on something, anything, in front of him. It was so white. Too white. Finally, he saw an object on the ground, quite close to the table he was laying on. He grimaced, realising that the crumpled form was a dead body. What the hell had happened? What kind of place was this? He called out, softly this time, but still no one answered him. He was alone. Why would he be left to wake up in a room like this, with no one even close? Had he simply been left to rot?

Had Korse been right after all? Had they all forgotten about him?

He whimpered softly, a shivering spreading through his entire form as he gripped the soft clothing covering him for comfort. He was so cold. The temperature was icy.

Where was he? What was the place? He'd worked so hard to escape one hell; had he merely only woken up into another?

"Please," he croaked. "Can anybody hear me?"

He waited, listening intently, desperate to hear something, anything. But there was nothing to be heard. No one was there to help him. No one evidently cared enough to be there waiting for him when he awoke.

How long had he been sleeping? Just how long had Korse been holding him prisoner?

That was when he remembered that sound. The only other auditory sensation he could hear, except for that ear splitting alarm. The hissing noise suddenly surrounding him, and he grimaced, recognising the sound after a few seconds. Very quickly, and ominously, he could smell it too. The smell of gas all around him, the aroma of it was growing worsewith every passing second. He knew what it meant. The room was becoming consumed by smoke and if he didn't get out of there quickly, the same thing would happen to him. He would be unconscious within seconds. Perhaps dead within minutes. His survival instinct quickly took over. He had to get out of there.

Moaning, he quickly covered his face with the only protection he had woken up to wearing, keeping the poisonous fumes away as much as he could. He widened his eyes, looking straight ahead and seeing the object of his freedom, his way out. Once again, a simple door was the bridge he had to cross. Only this time, he was fighting thick, consuming gas as opposed to the man he feared above all others. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, cursing the sharp pain that this caused. He ripped away all the wires attaching him to the numerous machines, and then threw himself onto the clean, white floor beneath him. He crashed down onto it, crying out in pain, his eyes screwed tightly shut. All he could think was _'Get out, just get out_,' and he began his slow, pained, desperate crawl towards that door and safety. He spluttered and groaned as he dragged his broken, screaming body across that shiny floor, knowing, deep within him, that he wasn't going to make it. He wouldn't even get half away across the room before the smoke would overcome him.

_'This can't be what I fought for? This can't be all there is. Please, Frank...'_

He collapsed to the ground, his eyes closed, his breathing laboured. He could feel his life essence beginning to ebb away and there was nothing he could do but lay there and wait for that beautiful darkness to consume him. He thought of the people he loved in turn, his brother, his best friend and his lover. His last thought was for them, and a simple wonder about where they were, if they were safe, and whether they had even bothered to look for him...

_'I'm sorry, Frank...'_

Just as Gerard closed his eyes, just as he had given in to the welcoming blackness, the doors were suddenly pushed open and two Draculoids, both wearing gas marks instead of their usual drone coverings, rushed into the room. They aimed their ray guns at the convulsing figure on the floor, and then stepped aside, allowing a third person to stride into the room.

Exterminator Saint stared down at Gerard, his eyes narrowing in shock. He quickly took in the bodies of the dead Co-ordinator and her Draculoid guards and a flicker of comprehension flashed across his face.

He leaned down, and took the woman's hand, shaking his head with some regret. "I think you underestimated the love our Michael had for his brother, didn't you, Ma'am?" He breathed, threw his mask.

Quickly, he turned his back on her, and was by Gerard's side in a couple of seconds. He felt around in his coat pocket, pulling out another gas mask, pushed aside the jacket the unconscious man had clasped to his mouth and nose, noting who it belonged to with a sneer, and then quickly fitted the mask over Gerard's face.

"Come on, Party Poison." He muttered, the urgency in his voice clear. "_Breathe._"

Moments passed. There was no response. Saint felt a murmur of anxiety and was debating whether to send the Draculoids for help, when suddenly, he heard a gentle sigh from the man below. He managed a small smile, let out a deep breath of his own he wasn't aware he had been holding, and then rose back up to his full height. He let out a cold chuckle, and then tapped the barely alive man in the side with the edge of his boot. "That's it, Gerard Way. That's my boy. Just breathe. You're gonna be just fine..."

Jimmy smirked, and then stepped over Gerard, speaking clearly.

"Alarm override 0110."

"_Accepted,"_ came the monotone reply of the computer. _"Advise Personnel number."_

"564-HigherExLevel-45."

"_Acknowledged. Number accepted. Identified as Exterminator Saint."_

"Stop the alarm procedures at once." Jimmy snapped.

"_Acknowledged."_

As Jimmy waited, the siren suddenly stopped, and the gas began to clear. The whole room was empty of any sign of the poisonous smoke within a few seconds. Jimmy nodded in satisfaction. His eyes moved from Gerard once more, and then to the broken bodies of the fallen Co-ordinator and her elite guards. Once again, he found himself wondering exactly what had happened. He had a very good idea, knew enough about how the Co-ordinator's mind had worked, and also knew what her fatal weakness had turned out to be. Her affections for Mikey Way and a complete disregard of the man's unbreakable emotions towards his older brother. The woman had been stupidly stubborn, refusing to heed Saint's warnings. Warnings, it had turned out, had been well warranted. And now, she was gone. And everything had changed.

Saint, aware that the room was now free of the gas, removed his mask and took in a deep, clear breath. He felt better already. He stared down at his prisoner once more, seeing that the man was also now able to breath unaided, and quickly took off his gas mask, throwing it to the nearest Drac guard, who caught it deftly. Saint watched the former Killjoy with some relief. They had only just got there in time. A few seconds longer in that room, overcome by that smoke, and the last Killjoy would have been no more. And what a waste that would have been. In so many ways...

He chuckled to himself as he regarded Gerard. Crouching down beside him, he stroked the other man's short brown locks, a small frown suddenly appearing. "I miss the cherry," he whispered. He glanced up at a Scarecrow, that had dared to move closer, and he smiled, amused.

"Well, didn't the Co-ordinator like her little secrets?"

The 'Crow said nothing.

Saint shook his head. "How did he survive? How is this possible?" He reached out, touching Gerard's bare chest. "I have to say, I'd have preferred..." His voice trailed off, and then he smirked grimly. "No, he'll do just fine."

"Does it matter how he survived, sir?" The Scarecrow replied, his tone cold and empty from beneath his standard mask. "He is Party Poison, Leader of the Killjoys. The orders regarding the Killjoys are clear, Exterminator. They are to be Ghosted on sight. Please stand aside and justice will be carried out accordingly."

Saint, who had once again been staring down at Gerard's prone face, his hand moved lower down the unmoving man's body, froze. "What are you talking about? We need him alive."

The 'Crow tightened his grip on his gun. "The Co-ordinator has been murdered by the rebel, Exterminator Saint. He must be executed at once."

Saint stood up slowly, stepping between the gun toting Scarecrow and the helpless man on the ground. "This man is not responsible for the Co-ordinator's death;" He paused, suddenly staring into space, reconsidering his words. "Well, in second thoughts, he actually is. But not directly. The true culprit must be found and punished. In the meantime, we must help this man recover from his ordeal. Take him to the Hospital Unit at once, and instruct them that I will follow him shortly, once I have cleared up here." He glanced away, back down at Gerard. "Only the very best medics could have operated on him, repairing the damage his brain would have suffered. Somebody knows that Gerard Way is still alive, and have kept it a secret for some time. I want to know who. You will investigate this and report back." He nodded at the 'Crow, who hadn't moved a muscle. "You have your orders. Now go carry them out."

The Scarecrow was visibly trembling. Saint found this perplexing. When did a drone ever show such emotion? He grimaced. No matter how intrigued he was, Gerard needed expert medical help at once. As far as Saint was concerned, the conversation was over.

"Don't make me tell you again," he whispered. "Take him."

After a few moments of more hesitation, the Scarecrow finally indicated to the two Draculoids standing behind him, waiting for instructions. "Bring him to the Hospital Unit." The 'Crow barked, and then watched as the drones moved quickly to obey, rushing to Gerard's side, and lifting him. Saint let out a low sigh, then threw off his large cloak, covering Gerard's shivering form with it. "Don't want him freezing to death, do we?" He muttered.

The 'Crow inclined it's head respectfully, then went to walk past Saint. It didn't quite make it though, as the Exterminator waited for the Senior Draculoid to be level with him, and then grabbed it's arm, pulling it back.

"See that the patient makes it to the hospital in the same state, do you understand?"

The 'Crow didn't flinch. "Of course, Sir."

It waited for Saint to release it's arm then, and once he had, it carefully followed Gerard and the Draculoids from the room.

Saint watched them go, and then after a few seconds, he brought his wrist communicator up to his mouth and pressed the button. He then spoke, clearly and carefully:

"All Draculoid and Scarecrow forces, please take note. This is an urgent announcement. The Co-ordinator, along with her elite guard, have been ghosted by Exterminator Michael. The Exterminator must be found, at all costs. This mission now replaces all other set tasks. Search the Citadel first, and then move out in the City. The rogue Exterminator must be found and brought to justice." He paused, thinking over his next words. "This news is top secret until future notice. We must prevent this horrific crime being made common knowledge among the citizens. There are already rebels loose in the City, this must be all the Citizens are made aware of. Michael may be attempting to join up with these rebels." Saint's lips curled up into a cruel smirk. "They must all be found and dealt with. For now, all your orders will come only from myself. Repeat: Only accept orders from me until you are instructed otherwise. Now, get out there and find these rebel scum. Over and out."

Saint broke the connection, and then lowered his wrist. He smiled down at the broken body of the woman who had once held all the power of the world; power that had now passed on to him. And Gerard Way was suddenly his prisoner. He had a weapon to find and a broken man who would know the information. The power he found himself in may very well be temporary at that moment, but once he delivered Party Poison and the rebel's weapon, would it then become permanent? He let out a low chuckle. This had certainly all been a very unexpected turn of events.

He strolled carefully towards the doors, pushing them open. Gerard would be saved, they wouldn't dare disobey him. They had the best doctors in this place, after all. They had brought the Killjoy back to life once before it seemed. Not to mention the miracles they had already performed in relation to Korse.

A thought touched him. Would he have saved the Co-ordinator, if he had got there sooner? Could he save her? Should he try?

He hesitated**.**

And then, he shrugged. "You win some..." He muttered, and grinned darkly.

Time was short for him, that he knew for sure. He was the leader now, he had work to do.

And he had rebels to find.

XXX

Michael and his new companion were standing outside a small building, Michael keeping a close eye for any movement while the other man unlocked the door before him quickly and carefully. They had made their way across the City, meeting no trouble as they had made their way. Both men knew the City, and all the safe places and shadows to hide, better than most. Though many Draculoid patrols were out searching for them, they were not discovered once.

The stranger had led Michael to his own premises, promising the former Exterminator that he could hide out there until the dust had settled. Michael had had no other option but to go along with him. As he watched the man push open the door, enter and then beckon for him to join him inside, his insides clenched.

Why did he trust this man? He had risked everything going with him, hadn't hardly questioned him. And he had no idea why.

It was time to demand more answers. He curled his hands into fists slowly as he stepped further into the unknown, and waited for his chance.

"It's not much," the man whispered, watching as Michael looked around the small apartment he had come to know as his only home, "but it's all I have."

"It's nice," Michael answered. "I like it."

He walked forward, noticing a small cupboard to one side, and pulled open the door. He reached in and took out a handful of little plastic containers, each one carrying a circular disc.

He had never seen them before.

"What is this?"

The man looked over, glanced down at the objects in Michael's hand, and then hurriedly snatched them away.

"It's nothing," he snapped. "Just memories, that's all. I don't know why I kept them."

"What were they called?"

"They played music, okay?"

Michael frowned. "Music unlicensed by BL/I is banned in the city."

The man was annoyed. "I know. Look, its really not important. Can we just leave it?" He threw them to one side, and swore under his breath when one of the cases cracked.

"Shit," he groaned. "That's just great."

He slammed the cupboard door closed, and then hastily turned the key in the lock, slipping it into his pocket. After taking a moment to compose himself, he then turned back to Michael, and have him a small smile.

Michael didn't return it. The man's peculiar behaviour had unnerved him even further.

Why had he trusted this man?

Who was he?

"We'll be safe here," the man told him. "We've just gotta lay low for a bit, until all the excitement dies down." He shook his head. "You killed the Co-ordinator man. Why did you do that?"

Michael trembled slightly. He saw her lying there, her dead eyes staring up at him.

He didn't reply. He still didn't know the answer.

His rescuer shrugged. "None of my business I suppose." He reached out toward the nervous man. "Don't be scared, Mikey. You'll be okay here."

"If you say so." Michael replied, softly. He bit his lip as soon as he had spoken.

He was right. He had said the wrong thing. The man looked up, and frowned. "What do you mean, if I say so?"

Michael gave him an incredulous look. "Well, seeing as how I went with you, trusted you and now found myself in the hands of a rebel resistance fighter, completely at your mercy, do you think it would be possible for you to actually tell me your name?"

The unknown man sighed. "I already told you, Mikey. I can't. Not yet anyway."

"But-"

The man's eyes flared. "No."

Michael gestured with annoyance. "I gotta call you _something _haven't I?"

The man grimaced, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Fucking fine then! Why don't you just call me 'Friend'?"

Michael snorted. "_Friend?_ That's very lame."

At that, Friend suddenly burst out laughing. "Now you're sounding more like your old self, Mikes..." He broke off, pursed his lips together, and then looked away.

Michael gave him a frustrated look, and then let out a deep sigh.

"You still don't trust me, do you? I don't get you. You saved my life, risked everything to get me here, but still can't trust me enough to tell me your name."

"No," came the fast reply. "I can't." A beat. "Wish I could, but it's not happening."

"Why not?"

"Because you're an Exterminator, and you could turn on me the second you decide to let their fucking control over you kick in again. I gotta protect my-" He stopped, his gaze once more locking onto Michael's. "There's lots of people I gotta protect, Mikey. They rely on me. Including you."

Michael paused, leaning back against the wall, his gaze boring into Friend's.

"Okay, whatever you say. _Friend_." He hesitated. "Could I ask you something else? And no, it's nothing to do with you..."

"Depends," Friend said, quietly. "I gotta be careful what I tell you, Mikes...

"What was I like?" Michael whispered, his eyes cast downwards, and his words spoken softly, with some embarrassment; "Back then?"

Friend actually smiled. "Dunno how to break it to you, pal." His eyes twinkled. "But you were a fucking pain in the ass!"

Michael looked up sharply, saw the amusement on the large man's face and, despite himself, he actually returned the grin.

Friend chuckled. "You know? I missed ya, man..."

At that moment, there was suddenly a harsh knocking from the main entrance, startling both men and breaking up the tender exchange. The unemotional voice of a Draculoid quickly rang out, causing Friend to swear under his breath; "Attention, please. This is a Better Living Patrol. Open up, Citizen." Michael stared at Friend, panicked and uncertain. With a hiss of annoyance, the other man indicated wildly to a room just behind the Exterminator.

"Get in there, quick!" He urged. "Shut the door, and stay out of sight, you got it? Whatever happens!"

Michael frowned, grabbing the other man's hand. "I'm not going to let you-"

"What?" Friend snapped; "You're not gonna let me risk my life? Too late for that, buddy. And you didn't let me do anything, Mikey. As usual, I did my own thing, made my own choices." He narrowed his eyes. "That's why I was banished, isn't it?"

Michael gaped back at him, at a loss for words.

The knocking came again.

"I'm coming!" Friend yelled, and then, whispered urgently, to Michael. "Go on, get out of sight! Now!"

Michael, torn by what he should do for the best, rushed to the back room, and edged through the open door, then pulling it closed behind him. His heart was pumping, and he was trembling all over. If they searched the house, as he had taught them to do, the Draculoids would surely discover him and both he, and his new friend, would be end up in the Detention Centre. He closed his eyes, and sent up a silent prayer to a higher power he didn't believe in.

Meanwhile, the two Draculoids at the door were addressing Friend, and Michael could see them through a crack in the door. Their behaviour was completed as expected. They were attempting to push their way in, their stance threatening. Michael was proud to see that his friend was holding his ground, glaring back.

"Can I help you, boys?" He enquired, his tone pleasant.

"Apologies for disturbing your evening, Citizen. We are searching for a small group of rebels that we understand are currently loose in the City. Have you seen anything unexpected tonight?"

Friend actually laughed. "You understand rebels are in the city? You don't know?"

There was a long pause, before the monotone voice came again. "Have you seen anything, Sir?"

Michael drew back, moving away from the door, trying to hold his breath, desperate not to make a sound. It was no longer his own safety he was concerned about. The thought of this man, this brave citizen who had risked everything to help him, getting hurt made him feel sick, and ashamed. As he listened to Friend stating he had not seen or heard anything out of the ordinary, and then, politely but firmly, ordering the Draculoids off his property and promising to keep 'a close eye,' the Exterminator let out a heavy sigh when he heard the front door slam, and then , after a few anxious seconds, the welcome sound of Friend hissing; "It's okay, Mikey. They've gone."

Michael, his head bowed, stepped out from behind the door, joining Friend in the hallway. "They'll be back," Michael muttered. "I've taught them well."

Friend frowned slightly. "They must have thought all their Christmases had come at once," he mused, "Having their Draculoids trained by a Killjoy..."

Michael flinched. He looked up at once. "What did you say?"

Friend gave him a knowing look. "You heard me, Mikey." He shook his head slightly, and then crossed the room, pulling open a closet, and dragging out a large box. Friend then opened the box, drew out some papers, and glanced at them. He smiled, nostalgically, then threw a load back into the box, before handing Michael a large poster. "You're not a fucking Exterminator, Michael. They did that to you, they ruined you, man. This is who you are."

Michael was staring down at the poster, his heart in his mouth. It was a wanted poster, with four faces staring proudly at him. Four Killjoys. Rebel scum. Michael let out a low moan as he stared at a picture of himself. He looked different, with striking blond hair. He muttered the words below his picture out loud: "Kobra Kid."

Friend nodded. "That's right, Mikey." He said softly.

Michael glanced at him quickly, but then his gaze was once again drawn to the four faces in the poster, in particular to the man on the left of his picture. He was labelled with the same mark of 'Exterminate', hiding his eyes, but his fiery red hair was clearly visible. Michael let out a low gasp.

"That's him! The red haired man from my dreams! His wide eyes shot up to meet Friend's. "He was in that room! We left him! The gas-"

"Probably killed him;" Finished Friend, his voice shaking slightly. "Or_ they_ might have found him. Who knows?" He paused. "I had to get you out of there. It's what Gerard would have wanted."

Michael blinked. "Gerard?"

"Yeah, you're brother."

"My... what?"

Friend smiled. "He's your brother, Mikey." The other man then gestured towards the other two faces. "And that's Ray, and Frank. Your best friends."

Michael gaped down at the man Friend had called Ray. Of course, Michael recognised him too. That was the rebel Michael had spared, back in the base. Is this why he had spared him? Had they once been in the same gang?

How was this possible?

Michael couldn't stand it any longer. Shaking his head from side to side, his eyes wide and showing the pure disbelief he was feeling, the Exterminator dropped the Killjoy 'Wanted' poster to the floor and then fled the room, fighting the need to break down. What were these emotions he was experiencing? Confusion? Fear? Longing?

Michael gritted his teeth. What exactly was happening to him? Longing? Longing for what? The man in that picture, the rebel, it was simply not him. It couldn't be. That was a criminal, a hunted man. A dead man. All the Killjoys had been found and ghosted.

He was an employee of BL/Industries. The most important force left in the world. An Exterminator. Until an hour ago, the lover of the Co-ordinator of the whole company. The woman he had murdered to save a rebel, scum of the planet, a man he did not even know. This could not, was not, happening to him.

Friend, moving slowly and quietly behind Michael, so not to startle him, reached out hesitantly, putting a supportive hand on the younger man's shoulder. "I know it's a fucking lot to take in. Just stay calm, Mikey-"

But Michael wasn't calm. And he had no intention to take the man's advice. He needed answers.

"I can't..." Michael backed away from the other man, his hands covering his face in despair. "I don't understand any of this." He glared at the man then, this stranger that he had trusted so absolutely, and his eyes narrowed. "Who are you? TELL ME! " Breathing harshly, he paused. Then, after a beat, he added, a hint of a plea in his eyes. "What the hell do you want from me?"

"What do I want?" Friend snapped. "I want you to remember me, Mikey. I want you back." He glanced down. "I wanna help you find who you really are. I think I might be the only one left who can."

"Are you a Killjoy?"

Friend let out a hollow laugh. "I shoulda' been."

Michael frowned, but didn't push this further. Instead, he closed his eyes. "Tell me your real name, please." A beat, and then; "Friend."

The man studied Michael's face, took a deep breath, but then shook his head firmly. "No, I can't. If things don't work out, and I blow my cover, I'll be putting a lot of lives at risk, and I don't mean my own." He managed a half smile. "All I've got left is my anonymity, Mikey. I need that."

Michael stared at him thoughtfully. He turned away for a moment, his eyes locked onto a mark on the wall. When he finally turned back to regard Friend, there was a new intensity in his gaze.

"I should go." He whispered.

Friend frowned. "Don't have a tantrum because I won't tell you, Mikey-"

"I'm not," Michael interrupted, calmly. "It's not safe here. I'm putting you in danger."

"You think I care?" Friend snapped. "I'm always in danger in this fucked up place!" He took a step toward the other man, and grimaced when he recoiled. "I can look after you, Mikey. I don't want you to go."

Michael glanced down. "I know. I don't want to be alone either, but enough people have died because of me. I don't want to watch you die too." He closed his eyes. "I have enough blood on my hands." He finally looked up again, and his pained gaze met Friend's.

"I need to do this, and you know it's the right thing. I have to know who I really am, but I got to do it my way. And my way is on my own. I'll leave now." He held out his hand to the man who had asked him to call Friend. "Or will you help me do this?"

Friend let out a deep sigh of surrender. He knew what Michael said was the truth, but the fact that he wasn't happy was etched all over his face. He took the outstretched hand, grasped it for a few seconds, and then let go.

Not meeting Michael's eyes, he strode forward, grabbing his jacket and Drac mask off of the floor, where he had thrown them. "We need to go now. Before it gets any lighter. I'll take you to the City limits, to the edge of the Zones." He pulled an uncomfortable hand through his long hair. "As soon as you cross that barrier though Mikey, you're on your own."

Michael nodded. "Thank you."

Friend threw him a cold look. "Don't thank me yet." He snapped, and then gestured for the other man to head towards the door. "Get into the transporter and keep your face covered. I'll be right with you."

Michael watched Friend as he disappeared through one of the doors, and then moved silently to the main exit.

No going back now. He's made his decision. It was time to leave.

XXX

It was cold and dark in the tunnels. Especially as, much to their annoyance and misery, Frank and Luka were hopelessly lost.

"I told him!" Frank grumbled, for the hundredth time. "I told Billie Joe not to wander off!"

Luka let out a deep sigh. "I know you told him, Frank. But he did, and Mike went after them."

Frank shook his head. "And they took the fucking map! So, what are we supposed to do now?"

Luka closed his eyes, trying to keep his temper. "I know you're worried about them, but staying here and panicking is not going to help us. We need to keep moving."

At his calming tone, Frank felt his anger subsiding.

He and his Croatian friend, Billie Joe and Mike had been making steady progress through the tunnels, not meeting any interference up until the moment Billie Joe had decided to try out a particularly dark passage, despite the displeasure of the others, and had pressed on, taking the only map with him, telling the others he would be back in five minutes.

Five minutes had turned into fifteen. Mike had gone after his friend. He had subsequently disappeared along with Billie, leaving Luka and Frank alone, and scared.

And that was how they now found themselves. Alone, in a dark tunnel, with no idea which path to take.

"Where are we?" Luka whispered, trying to steer the conversation back to something helpful. "What is this place?"

"We were heading upwards," Frank noted. "Shona said to follow the tunnels to the detention centre, we're still on the right road. We keep our eyes extra peeled for Dracs, as they'll be more patrols crawling around in these tunnels but other than that, nothings changed. We've lost Mike and Billie but they've still got each other, and so do we. We still got a job to do. I say we should keep going."

Luka nodded, a pleased smile spreading across his lips. "Lets find your friend."

Frank smiled at him gratefully. Luka returned the grin.

"So," Luka said, turning his attention back to their immediate situation. "Which way?"

Frank shrugged. "I don't know." He pointed in the direction leading deeper into the tunnels. "Down there?"

Luka nodded. "Lead on."

XXX

Michael stared straight ahead, not wanting to look as he and Friend drove through the dark, secluded roads, through the part of the City less likely to be packed with Draculoid guards, currently looking for him. Friend didn't speak, he just drove ahead, giving Michael quick, concerned glances on numerous occasions. Michael didn't want a conversation. There was nothing to say. This was the only home he had ever known, the only people he had ever cared for. Or so he had believed. He had learned that night that everything he had ever believed, even the person he had believed himself to be, had been one elaborate lie. And that fact stung to him to his very core.

He had been their plaything, nothing more.

An image flashed into his mind. A woman, standing before him, smiling at him, her red lips touching his skin as she whispered into his ear: "I love you, Michael. You're mine."

That's what it had all been about. Controlling him. Proving that he belonged to her, not to the brother that she had stolen the right for him to even remember.

She had taken him, and she had ruined him, turning him into a drone, into a shadow of what he had once been. Making him into their own, professional, mindless killer. The ex Killjoy, their happy slave. What could have been better? What could have been sweeter? They replaced their general with one of the men that killed him.

They had all been laughing at him, but it was impossible for him to see.

Well, his eyes had been opened now.

He had been a joke to St Jimmy, someone to taunt about a past he had no idea about. All he had been to the Co-ordinator was something to train into her perfect soldier, there to simply obey her every whim. Murder for her. Kidnap for her. Torture for her. Make love to her.

A story that wasn't real.

Angrily, he wiped away unwanted tears, wanting the memories to stop tormenting him, and then turned his head to peer out of the window, seeing that the vast, white buildings were finally behind them. He gave Friend one quick glance, and the other man seemed to note his confusion.

"We're nearly at the border," Friend muttered. "I can't drive us outside the City walls."

Michael nodded. "I know. You'll set off the alarm. I can pass off on foot though. I have clearance to move outside of the City."

Friend gave him a quick look. "How does it work anyway? The more you kill, the more privileges you get?" When Michael didn't react, Friend pressed on. "How many of your old friends did you have to ghost before you got to screw the boss lady?"

Michael snarled. "Shut your mouth!" He hissed, his hands tightening into fists.

Friend pursed his lips together. "Keep that fight in you, Mikey." He said softly. "You're gonna need it in the Zones." He carefully swerved the transporter to one side, and then turned off the engine. He pulled open the door, and watched as Michael did the same, and they both jumped down from the vehicle, and walked round to meet each other. Friend offered Michael the bag he had been storing in the back of the truck. "Take this. There's food, water, clothes. As much as I can spare, and that you'll be able to carry. Should keep you going until you reach Zone Three, anyway."

Michael took the bag, and then glanced inside. He then looked back up at Friend, and nodded gratefully to him. "Thank you."

Friend didn't reply. Instead, he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Michael and pulling him into a big hug. A hug Michael did not return. He wanted to, he owed this good man so much, but it was still a step to far for him. Not after everything he had gone through that night already. His mind was in a whirl. He just hoped he could sort out his head before he tried to cross the Zones, alone and on foot. He knew he had an almost impossible task ahead of him, especially for a BL/I Exterminator being hunted now by _both _sides.

"Thank you," Michael muttered. "You saved my life."

"Don't mention it," the other man replied. "What are friends for?"

He laughed. Michael couldn't help himself. He smiled.

Bob saw him, and looked down at the sand at their feet. "Well, a smile. It's good to know you remember how to do that at least..." He offered his hand. "Good luck, Mikey."

Michael took the hand, and shook it once, before dropping it quickly.

"Head for Zone Three," Friend told him. "There's a rebel base there, and a hell of a lot of rebels who know who you are-"

"And that's a good thing?" Michael interrupted, incredulously.

"It is when the leader is Doctor Death Defying, yes."

"The Broadcaster?" Michael exclaimed, then actually rolled his eyes. "You're sending me to a rebel base? There are easier ways to kill me, you know!"

Bob furrowed his brow in confusion. "What?"

"I'm an Exterminator responsible for the murder of dozens of their people! They'll shoot me as soon as they see me!"

Friend frowned, somewhat agitated, and then shook his head. "No, they won't. They're your family and they miss you. You belong with them, Mikes." He lowered his voice, a slight tremor creeping into his softly-spoken words. "Do yourself a favour, and trust them. Just like I should have done."

"Alright," Michael sighed with a weary nod. "I get the message." He draped his bag over his shoulder. "And you? What you gonna do now?"

"Get back to the Citadel," Friend muttered. "I gotta find Gerard."

"If he's still alive."

At that, Friend actually smiled. "Now see. If you remembered your brother, you wouldn't even be making a statement like that. He'll be in there somewhere, and he'll be fighting them. And probably mouthing off to them. Whatever it takes, I'm gonna get him out of there."

The former Exterminator gave him a small smile. "You must really love Gerard."

Friend couldn't help but laugh. "Actually, to tell you the truth, the last time I saw him, I told him that I hated him." He shrugged. "He can be a fucking nightmare, your brother." Friend paused. "But, ahead of all of the shit, he's a fucking hero. And some day, you're gonna remember that too."

Michael wasn't so sure. But one thing was for sure, he couldn't stay there a moment longer. With a heavy sigh, he looked back towards the never ending desert spreading out before him.

"You reckon I'll remember that out there?"

"Yeah."

"Time to go then." With one last nervous smile to the man that had saved his life, Michael hurried towards the hole in the fencing, his route out of the confines of the city.

"Hey," Friend called. "One last thing."

"What?" Michael said, somewhat impatiently. "I gotta get moving if I wanna be far enough away from here for when the sun comes up."

"You wanted to know my name."

Michael stopped. He stared at Friend. "Yes," he replied, softly.

'Friend' grinned widely. "It's Bob, Mikey. I'll see you soon, buddy."

Something strange tingled within Michael, something that felt good, and even seemed to warm him. He nodded to Bob, and then turned and climbed through the gap.

Bob watched him until he couldn't even make out a shape in the darkness, and then made his own way carefully back to his transporter. He sighed as he turned the key in the ignition.

His night had only just got going.

Michael Way was free. And he had a chance to find himself once again. The longer Bob had spent with him, the more he had seen signs of the old Mikey glimpsing through. If there was one man who could fight off their sick re-programming in the most awkward way possible, it was Mikey Fucking Way.

And now, Bob would finish the job, and help his brother too.

Whatever it took, Bob Bryar would get Gerard away from the BL/I bastards, no matter the cost. It was the least he owed him, after all...

XXX

Saint was standing outside the medical unit, his hands on his hips. He had been there for at least twenty minutes, hoping to be updated on his captured Killjoy's condition. He muttered under his breath, annoyed at being kept waiting for so long. The doctors had been working on Gerard since he had sent the Killjoy to them, but no news had yet reached him. If the fools let the rebel die, if they had allowed their only chance of finding this unknown weapon slip through their fingers, then Saint would see that each and every one of them was executed, slowly and painfully.

He clenched his fists, and narrowed his eyes at the Draculoids standing guard on the door. They had been throwing him nervous glances the entire time he had been stood there. Saint understood why. He had considered shooting them and forcing his way inside a few times.

Just as he had decided he had been stood there for long enough, the Draculoids quickly moved away, and the lead doctor strode out of the operating centre, wiping his hands with a cloth, and then moved directly over to Saint, coming to a halt in front of him, and inclining his head respectively.

"Good evening, Exterminator," he said pleasantly. "I'm Doctor Gallagher."

"Doctor," Saint replied, "My apologies for asking for your services at such a late hour."

"Not a problem," came the somewhat smug response. "I must say though, I was surprised to discover who the patient was."

Saint frowned. "Why?"

The Doctor blinked. "The Co-ordinator's instructions were more than clear. Save the rebel's life but ensure he would never recover. She needed his knowledge but otherwise ordered for him to remain," he paused, a cold smile spreading on his face, "well, he was nothing but a toy to be played with. It wasn't like his life mattered, was it?"

Saint was staring at him. "Let me get this right? You operated on Party Poison, repairing the damage caused by the Re-Programmer? You kept him alive at the Co-ordinator's request?"

The doctor furrowed his brow in confusion. "Of course. I am the lead in brain surgery, as I assumed you knew? Naturally, the Co-ordinator came to me, and I was honoured to assist her." He leaned closer. "I was informed that you are in charge of the rebel's situation now. Were you not aware of my involvement?"

Saint tilted his head. "Obviously not." His irritation was clear.

"Where is the Co-ordinator," The doctor said hurriedly. "I wish to speak with her before proceeding."

At that, Saint shrugged. "The Co-ordinator was murdered tonight. That's how I discovered the rebel." He felt some satisfaction as the doctor's shocked expression. "She was killed by Exterminator Michael, because she told him to kill his brother." A pause, before Saint went on. "The man you treated worse than an animal."

The doctor was glaring. He crossed his arms over his puffed out chest. "His life had no value. All we needed was his mind and the knowledge within. We scanned his brain for details and locations of rebel hideouts, in order to send our Operative into their bases and exterminate all the vermin. It worked well, didn't it? Most of the rebel threat has been crushed." His tone was belittling. "Has it not, Exterminator Saint?"

"Oh yes," Saint purred. "Many men, women and children have been murdered, you did your job well." He leaned in closer. "Only, now, the rules have changed. I need the Killjoy leader Party Poison not only alive, but awake, and alert. I need information from him."

"Why not just scan him?" The doctor barked. "If this Killjoy is dangerous. I can find out everything he knows about this weapon for you."

Saint shook his head. "I don't think so," he mused. "I have my own plans."

The doctor shrugged. "Very well then. You should know then," he jerked his head. "He's awake now."

Saint's head snapped up at once. "What?"

The doctor actually smirked. "He's awake, and reacting to the world around him. He's already attacked me when he saw a Draculoid guard. I had to sedate him. He's now come around again and seems calmer, but is not answering any questions." He glanced back toward the operating room. "He hasn't spoken at all, to be honest with you. I truly believe it would be easier to scan-"

"Thank you," Saint interrupted, "But that will not be necessary. He will talk to me. I have ways."

Gallagher nodded. "As you wish." He gestured toward the door. "You may go in, Exterminator. Probably shouldn't tire the patient though. He will be weak, after his ordeal."

Saint raised an eyebrow. "He's been to hell and back, that is true." There was some respect in his tone, when he added; "But it's a mistake to ever assume Party Poison to be weak..."

And with that, Saint marched into the adjacent room, Gallagher falling into step right behind him.

Party Poison was sitting on a chair in the centre of the small room, his head bowed. He didn't react when Saint entered the room, nor when he walked quickly up to him. He was wearing a BL/I custom robe, visibly being careful to keep himself fully covered. He seemed unconcerned by anyone else in the room, a mark on the floor apparently had his full attention. His hands were placed in his lap, laying flat on his thighs. His shorter hair was stuck to his head by sweat, his eyes were cold and unseeing. There was no sign that this man was the brave and feisty rebel leader he had once been. Or any that he could be that man again.

Saint frowned as he approached Poison, and then carefully knelt down in front of him.

"Party Poison," he addressed him, his voice soft and gentle. "How are you feeling?"

Poison didn't respond. He didn't even move.

Saint looked up at Gallagher, who gave him a "Told you so," look. Saint pursed his lips together, and then tried again.

"Can I get you anything?" He pressed. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

Still nothing.

Saint let out a low growl. "Gerard!" He grabbed the frozen man's hand. "Can you hear me?"

Gerard merely continued to sit there.

Saint stared at him. He cringed in anger when he heard Gallagher laughing. He stood up abruptly, and moved over to Gallagher, pulling the man away from Poison.

"I need him talking!" Saint hissed. "Do something!"

Gallagher gave him a haughty look. "The toy is broken, Exterminator," he drawled. "There's nothing that can be done for him."

Saint's eyes blazed. "He's not broken! He can't be! He fought back against Korse, against everything this company did to him. He's not going to give up now!"

Gallagher snorted, and then stepped away from Saint, moving back over toward Gerard, peering at him over his rimmed spectacles, his expression amused. "As you have discovered, Exterminator. The subject remains unable to speak. I believe that is evidence enough that he is still broken."

Saint frowned. "You would be stupid to underestimate him, doctor. He is a Killjoy. More so, he is their leader. He's stronger than you give him credit for." He paused, regarding Gerard, who continued to gaze into space, his large brown eyes unseeing. "Trust me, there is more to him than there appears to be."

Gallagher snorted, moving ever closer to his unresponsive patient. "If this pathetic man was ever some kind of fearsome warrior, someone worth taking notice of, he's not any more. Korse destroyed every piece of resistance this man had inside of him." He smiled. "Whatever you need from him, he will not be able to refuse, if you allow me to scan him for you."

"That's just it," the Scarecrow behind Gerard spoke up. "He never did refuse _anyone_, did he?"

They all laughed. All of them except St Jimmy, who frowned and continued to watch Gerard.

Gallagher was suddenly only a hairs length away from Gerard. He smirked at him, his cold eyes staring at the other man, who still refused to look at the cruel doctor.

"Look at me," Gallagher instructed, and when Gerard still didn't respond, he grabbed the man's chin and forced him to meet his gaze. "I told you to look at me, rebel scum."

Gerard's brown, soulful eyes finally rose up to meet the doctor's. Coldness seized Saint as he watched the man he had once known as Party Poison. He thought back to the rebel he had known before, back in the Zones. Poison had been strong then; brave and fearless – a true leader. He had risked everything to save one of his own, and, for a few moments at least, he had fought off the control drugs, something Saint had never seen happen before. And now, this is what he had been reduced to. A broken man, every little part of him that made him who he was had been beaten and ripped away until only a shell was left. Saint had no real liking for Party Poison, he actually thought the man was an arrogant ass who needed to be brought down a peg or two, but to see him reduced to such a wreck, even Saint found it disconcerting.

Korse had done his work well. Party Poison, or Gerard Way, however you chose to call him, or remember him, was lost. There was nothing left.

Gallagher grinned coldly at Gerard. "You will answer all questions and agree to all requests made of you. Is that understood?"

Gerard didn't move. The doctor's eyes narrowed. He tightened his grip. "Answer!"

A strange look flashed across the former Killjoy's face. It was there, for a split second, but then it was gone again, and a few seconds later, he appeared as weak as ever.

Saint tilted his head slightly.

"Leave him, Gallagher," he snapped. "You've proved your point."

Then, Gerard moved his lips, though he made no sound. Gallagher smiled at him cruelly. He was so close to the rebel now, their lips were almost touching. "What did you say?"

"_Please..." _Gerard whispered brokenly, his voice coming out in weak gasps. "_Please don't hurt me._"

Gallagher threw back his head, and laughed loudly. Gerard was watching him now, his expression unreadable. Saint shook his head slightly, not enjoying the show. Taunting the Killjoy, turning him into even more of a lost cause was not aiding them in the slightest. They needed information from Gerard, which mean they required him to be of sound mind. The pleasure the sadistic doctor was taking in his victim's helpless state was quite unnerving.

"Enough, Gallagher," Saint spoke up clearly. "Perhaps you could leave me with-"

But he was interrupted. Gallagher was no longer interested in anything but lording over a man who had apparently given up. Party Poison may have lost his passion, and his fight, but Gallagher was in even greater danger, Saint realised. The doctor, once a good man, back before the bombs, was in danger of losing his soul.

"Korse's little bitch," Gallagher purred. "Are you scared, rebel?"

Gerard closed his eyes. "I'll-" He whispered, but stopped.

"What?" Gallagher probed, clearly enjoying himself immensely.

"Yours..."

A beat. "What are you trying to say, rat? Are you my bitch now? Are you Better Living's bitch?"

Another whimper. "Yes."

Gallagher beamed over at Jimmy. "You see, Exterminator? This man is no danger to us! Any information you need from him he will give up easily. He will give himself up easily, if that's what we want. Korse's mission was an unequivocal success." He reached out and stroked Gerard's short hair. "Party Poison is ours." He placed his head on one side. "It's a shame the Co-ordinator isn't here to see this. And Korse too, obviously."

He placed both his hands on Gerard's face, staring at him, his tone strong and confident.

"Kiss me," he instructed.

Gerard hesitated.

Without a seconds delay, Gallagher slapped him. The Killjoy moaned, and then bowed his head. Gallagher sighed, lifted Gerard's chin, and then pressed his lips to the other man's. He gripped the back of Gerard's head as he pushed his tongue against the other man's lips, demanding entry into his mouth. Gerard surrendered, allowing Gallagher to do as he wanted. Very slowly, the younger man began to kiss back, moving his head, grasping hold of Gallagher's, and keeping him still as he slowly turned tables on the older man, growing in confidence.

Saint stared at the scene before him, feeling ever more turned on by Poison's dominant display. As he watched them, he suddenly realised Poison had his eyes open and was watching the doctor's reactions to his ministrations. And then, Saint looked into Poison's eyes, and shivered at the emptiness he saw there.

Suddenly, there was something else, something other than the empty darkness.

Something bright. Something strong. Something dangerous.

Saint knew what was going to happen a second before it did.

Gerard tightened his grip on Gallagher until the older man groaned in discomfort, and tried to pull away. The former Killjoy held him steady. Then, he leaned back, smiled, bared his teeth, and then bit violently down on Gallagher's lower lip, actually tearing part of his lip away.

Pandemonium erupted in the small room.

Gallagher was slumped down on the ground, blood flowing from his tattered lips, screaming in pain and horror as his Draculoid servants rushed to help him. Gerard had been dragged away from him, but was still fighting tooth and claw to get to Gallagher again. It was taking four Draculoids to hold him at bay. They began to beat him senseless, blow after blow rainingdown on him, and Gerard fell to the ground underneath the weight of their ferocious attack. He tried to curl up into a ball, to protect his head, but it was useless. They wouldn't stop, not even when he began to cry out in pain.

Suddenly, there was a shout. "Stop! Stop it!"

The blows ceased. Gerard lay at the Draculoid's feet, trembling softly.

Saint was at his side quickly, leaning beside him, laying a gentle hand on his battered chest, trying to see how badly injured the Killjoy was. "Calm down, Gerard." He whispered. "You have to calm down, otherwise, I can't help you."

Very slowly, Gerard looked up, and stared at him. Saint shuddered slightly under his scrutiny. There was something new in those deep, probing eyes. Something like recognition...

He saw then that the beaten man was trying to speak, so he leaned ever closer, until he heard the hoarse, pained words.

"Take off the mask."

Saint frowned, hesitating. He had been thrown, and a tiny spark of fear crept in. This he had not expected. Did Gerard know him? It had not dawned on him when he had instructed the doctors to fix the rebel leader that they would heal all the blemishes on his brain. In particular, the one Saint himself had created.

Saint saw a flash of long, brown hair and thought back to that day, so long ago.

The day he had stumbled across the Killjoys.

As he gazed down at Gerard, in his mind's eye he replaced him with Fun Ghoul. Ghoul, the Killjoy that Saint could not forget, the man that had cared enough to prevent Poison from killing their enemy. The man who BL/I had marked, tortured, and then murdered. Saint swallowed. Maybe the time had come. Maybe it was time to face up to his past.

He was ready. He was in control here, after all. Not the stricken Killjoy at his feet.

Carefully, he gripped his mask, and pulled it free, revealing his face.

Gerard gazed at him, his eyes instantly fixating on the ugly scar on the left side of Saint's cheek. Reaching out gingerly, Gerard ran a finger down the scar, licking his lips.

He pulled away again, leaned back, and stared coldly at the Exterminator, who simply glared back.

"Hello, Jimmy." Gerard muttered.

Saint Jimmy gave him his mocking chuckle. "Hey, Cherry Top. Good to see you again."

Gerard didn't speak again for a few moments. Finally, he leaned in close and smiled. Jimmy, taken in by that winning smile, moved to meet him. Gerard paused, and then spat a large amount of bright crimson blood into Jimmy's smug face.

"How do you like cherry now, you fucking bastard."

Jimmy reeled back in disgust, wiping at the blood with his right hand. Gerard laughed in his face, once again struggling against his Draculoid captors.

"Not as pretty as me any more then, Jimmy?"

Jimmy went red. "Hold him!" He hissed.

"He's mad!" Gallagher snapped, still being tending to in the doorway, a cloth now held over his bleeding mouth. "No better than a rabid dog. Like an animal, he should be destroyed."

"No," Jimmy snapped. "We need him alive! He's the only chance we have!"

Gerard's laughter increased in volume. Jimmy narrowed his eyes. He seemed to ponder his next move while he watched the Killjoy. Finally, he said, quite softly. "Level three, please."

That had the desired effect. Gerard stopped laughing. As a Draculoid suddenly pulled out it's Torture gun, Gerard began to fight again in earnest. "No," he moaned, through gritted teeth. "Don't. Not that."

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. "You've brought this on yourself, Poison."

Within moments, Gerard was lost once more in the horrific, agonising clutches of the Torture drug. The burning pain was horribly familiar for Gerard as he writhed at Jimmy's feet, screaming until his throat no longer allowed him to. Jimmy crouched over him.

"Are you going to behave now, Poison?"

Gerard merely whimpered in response. Jimmy sighed, took hold of his victim's hair, and pulled his head up. "I asked you-"

"_Not going to hurt me again._" Gerard managed, his shaky voice betraying his agony. _"Ever."_

Jimmy shrugged. "I don't enjoy this, Gerard. This isn't _my_ way. It's Korse's and I'm _not _him. If you're a good boy and help me out, no one will hurt you. You have my word."

Gerard was finally lying still, his breathing laboured.

"What do you want?" He muttered.

"I want information." Jimmy told him, now stroking his hair. "You tell me what I want to know, and I'll let you go. Deal?"

Gerard, slowly recovering from the torturous pain, actually laughed brokenly. "Sorry Jimmy," he gasped, still lying on the ground. "But I don't intend to be here with you long enough to answer your questions."

Jimmy seemed amused. "Oh? And whys that, Cherry Top? If I may ask?"

Gerard squirmed at the humiliating "pet" name Jimmy had for him. "I've got important people to see."

"Are you referring to your fellow Killjoys, by chance?" Jimmy's voice was dripping with false sympathy. "I have some bad news there, I'm sorry to say."

Gerard didn't react to his words other than to clench his fists so tightly that they turned white.

Jimmy smirked cruelly. "Kobra Kid, Jet Star and Fun Ghoul are no longer with us, Poison." He grinned. "My condolences."

Gerard's head snapped up. "What?"

"They're dead, Gerard. And they died thinking you were dead too." He stroked Gerard's hair. "Think about that."

"You're lying." Gerard snapped, shaking Jimmy off of him. "Get the fuck away from me!

Jimmy chuckled. "Am I?" He retorted. "Why aren't they here then? You know as well as I do, Poison. They would never have given up on you. Unless they had no choice."

Gerard shook his head harshly from side to side. "No," he moaned. "_No._"

"They're dead," St Jimmy repeated. "Because of you." He patted Gerard's arm. "I was very sad to hear about poor Frank's passing especially. I'd have loved to see him again..."

"_Don't mention his name!"_

Jimmy laughed. "I sure do miss Frank." His eyes narrowed. "Tell me, Poison. _Do you_?"

At that, Gerard did let out a pained sob. He couldn't bear it. But, deep inside him, he just _knew_ that Jimmy was telling him the truth. Mikey, Frank and Ray would never have left him to suffer without trying to save him. Nothing would have stopped them.

Unless...

They were gone. All of them.

"You're alone," Jimmy purred, feeling triumphant. He manhandled Gerard, lifting him bodily and shoving him back down onto his chair. "You're not just the leader of the Killjoys now. You're also the last. Congratulations." He leaned ever closer. "Tell me, Rock Star. Was it all worth it?"

Gerard trembled, but didn't reply.

He was so near to his prisoner now, Jimmy's lips brushed against his cheek as he hissed to him:

"How do you _feel_ now, Party Poison?"

Gerard didn't answer. He wouldn't give Jimmy the satisfaction. He closed his eyes tightly.

Jimmy gave Gerard a disgusted look, then turned his back on him. "Lights out!" He barked, plunging the room into blackness. He then stormed out of the room, slamming and locking the door behind him, leaving the Killjoy alone in the dark.

Once Gerard was certain he was alone, and would be for a small time at least, he raised his head. He looked around the room, blinked continuously. Finally, his sore eyes focused on a flashing blue light, above the door. He could just make out a surveillance camera attached to the wall. Gerard's lips curled and he rose, unsteadily, to his feet. Slowly and gingerly, he edged his way across the room, feeling for and holding on to a table of apparatus on his right hand side as he walked. At last, he was standing directly under the camera, and could see it quite clearly. He looked up, grimacing from the sharp pain every movement caused. He felt like every fibre of his being was screaming at him, he was in so much agony. Attacking that doctor, spitting in Jimmy's face, every movement had felt like death.

He knew very well what that felt like, after all.

With a cold chuckle, he stared at the camera, and spoke at it, fully aware that Jimmy could see him.

"You're watching me, aren't you, you bastard? Want to see me crack, is that it? Well, fuck you, St Jimmy..."

With a cry of determination, he grabbed the table, sweeping all the machinery on it to the ground with an angry shout. He clambered onto it, his adrenalin pushing him on, and then stood up, trembling in pain, reaching up for the camera. He took hold of it, and pulled with all he was worth until the device came away. The effort sent him tumbling off of the table, and he crashed to the ground, screaming in outrage at the harsh treatment. He looked up at the door, expecting Draculoids to come rushing in. No one appeared. Taking a moment to catch his breath, Gerard staggered to his feet again, limped over to the now smashed camera, and proceeded to stamp on it repeatedly, yelling in anguish, until the defenceless object was left in little pieces.

When the camera was no more, Gerard stayed perfectly still, staring down at the BL/I technology he had just wrecked. He placed his hands behind his head, trying to regain control of his himself, physically and mentally. Eventually, he gave up the fight, sinking to his knees.

He couldn't hold the rage, and the despair, inside for a moment longer.

Their faces flashed before his eyes, one after another. Mikey. Ray. Frank.

All dead. They'd left him behind. They hadn't waited for him, and now he was alone.

They were gone. His brother, his best friend and his lover.

He whimpered, so softly; _"Frankie..."_

But there was no one to answer him.

He let out a scream of pure devastation. Why did they bring him back? Why bother? Why couldn't he be with the others? Be with Frank...

He couldn't hold on a second longer. He placed his head against the cold, white floor as the uncontrollable pain seized him.

The tears came, and he didn't try to stop them.

Party Poison was alive, but his heart was broken.

In the enemy's hands, scared and completely alone, Gerard Way finally broke down and sobbed for the loved ones he'd lost.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi all. I'm so sorry I'm so late! At least its a nice long chapter again to make up for it! Thanks so much for all the reviews as usual... I promise to do replies to each one next time (So pls log in... ;)) Oh and I should apologise here for the cliffhanger at the end of this chapter. I know this is seriously mean, and Im sorry! There's torture, some mild sexual abuse, and some graphic violence this time...**

**Enjoy!**

**~X~**

**Purifying Flame**

**Chapter Six**

Ray and Bandit were sitting together, Ray perched on a table, Bandit crouching on the floor at his feet. Shona and Grace had gone on ahead, just to get a better look at how many numbers of Draculoids they were facing as they attempted to exit the education building. He watched her as she sat quietly, keeping her eyes trained on the ground. She had been so young the last time he'd seen her, merely a child. He couldn't believe she was with him now, alive and well, and completely unaware of what had happened to both her mom and dad. Ray was happy to keep it that way. He was protecting Bandit by keeping her ignorant of their suffering. He shook his head as the anger and confusion hit him once again. This girl was an orphan, she was still a child and both her parents had been violently and cruelly taken from her. And now it was down to him to keep her safe and he would do just that. She was all he had left of Gerard, and of Mikey, and she would become his world. Ray knew it was what Gerard would have wanted.

With a sigh, Ray spoke up, breaking the awkward silence. "When did you last see your mom, Bandit?"

She jumped, surprised by the question. After a second, she replied, "A few months ago. She brought me here to Shona and told me she'd look after me 'til she came back for me."

Ray nodded. It must have killed Lindsey to leave her, in the city, surrounded by the enemy. Ray didn't doubt Lindsey's judgement though. If she had believed that this was the safest place for Bandit, then that was good enough for him. Lindsey must have trusted Shona with her life. Ray felt more appreciation for the headstrong rebel too. She had risked so much, had lost so much. And still she was giving everything to protect her kids. How could Ray feel anything but respect?

Ray cleared his throat, knowing how much his next question would hurt. "And what about your Dad? Do you remember him?"

Bandit paused. "I remember him saying goodbye," she replied, quietly. "And I remember his smile. And the way he used to sing to me. Daddy was always singing."

Ray very nearly broke down. His lower lip trembled as he regarded her but, somehow, he held it together. Just. "Yes," he said softly. "He was."

"He walked away from us," Bandit continued. "Mommy and I had to run from house to house, base to base, until she brought me here to Shona because she'd heard that Daddy might actually still be alive and had to go and find him. To bring him home." She bit her lip. "I didn't see her again. I think she's gone too."

Ray had to look away. The pain he saw in those too familiar eyes was breaking his heart.

"What happened that day, Bandit?" He whispered. "What happened the day your daddy left?"

Bandit continued to play with her fingers, evidently refusing to look up at Ray. She screwed her eyes up, and the Killjoy saw that she was trembling, much to his pain and anger.

"You don't have to tell-"

"No," she said at once, rubbing at her eyes. "It's okay. I just..." She paused, taking a breath before she finally rose her eyes to meet his. "I don't like thinking about mommy and daddy much. It hurts."

All he could do was nod patiently. If he tried to say anything, Ray was pretty sure he'd break down.

Bandit took a few more moments, and then finally began her story, staring down at the ground the whole time, bravely keeping her emotions in check as she recounted what she remembered from that painful night, all those years ago:

_It was raining hard, and there was the odd growl of thunder rolling around in the distance. They were outside their house, in the garden, and her mommy was holding her tightly in her arms. The rain was running down their faces, their hair. It was as though the world was crying with them. He was leaving them. Her daddy. He was going away and her mommy was crying so hard. _

"_Don't cry, sugar;" He whispered to her mommy. "Please don't cry." He wrapped his arms around both of them and they were complete. But she knew this was to be the last time. She knew something very bad was happening. Her daddy was leaving them, Uncle Mikes was taking him away from them, and her mommy was upset. No, her mommy was beyond upset. She'd never cried like this. Not even when the men had first taken Daddy away. And she didn't really understand what was happening._

_Her Daddy was kissing her mommy. Normally, she'd look away, finding it icky. But this was different. This was special._

"_Daddy?" She muttered, and he pulled away from her mommy and instead leaned closer to her, stroking her hair, kissing her. "You be a good girl," he told her, just managing to speak. Why couldn't he talk properly? Why wouldn't he smile? __Why__ was he suddenly not even looking at her?_

"_You look after your mommy, Bandit."_

_Uncle Mikes was suddenly beside her Daddy, his arm around his shoulders. "We have to go, Gee. They'll come looking for you again. If they find you here-"_

"_I know, Mikey," Her Daddy had snapped back, suddenly angry. "Just give me a minute!"_

_Her Uncle looked upset then, and worried, looking away from her Daddy. _

_She clung to him, not wanting to let him go. She knew this was it. She didn't know why, she didn't know where he was going, but she knew she would never see him again. She could feel it. Her mommy pressed her face into her hair, and Bandit was pleased. It was good to feel her so close. She needed her mommy now. _

"_Bye baby." Her Daddy had said, so softly. He kissed her mommy one last time. "I love you both," he muttered. "Don't hang around here, __Lindsey__. You have to leave, with Christa, Jamia, Addie and the others. Don't waste any time. They'll come for me, I don't want you to still be here." He looked away. "They'll use you two to hurt me. Just go away and-"_

"_Forget you?" Her mommy finished for him. "Not going to fucking happen! You've given up! I won't."_

"_You think this is it?" He hissed back, forcing her uncle away from him as he tried to calm her daddy down. "You think I'm giving up? I'll keep fighting them but I can't do that here, with you. I have to do this. I have to go-"_

"_Your place is HERE! With your family!"_

_Her daddy didn't argue again. He just covered his face with his hands._

_Finally, he looked at them one more time. And the tears were streaming down her poor daddy's face._

"_I'm sorry."_

_And then, he and Uncle Mikes were turning their backs, and they were walking away._

"_Daddy?"_

_She screamed into the night. But he didn't turn around. Her mommy was sobbing again, holding her so tightly now it actually hurt. But Bandit couldn't let this happen. She couldn't watch him walk away like this. She loved him! She needed him! Desperately, she struggled out of her mommy's grip and actually fell to the ground with a bump. Ignoring the jarring pain, and her mommy's panicked cries, Bandit was running as fast as her small legs would carry her, racing after her daddy, sobbing her little heart out, crying out to him in her panic. No, he wasn't leaving her and her mommy. He wouldn't do that. Hearing her cries, her Daddy turned back towards her, and fell to his knees, his arms __outstretched__. She ran into them, her breathing painful and coming out in gasps thanks to the state she had worked herself up into. He hugged her, and then pulled back, gently wiping away her tears._

"_You have to stay with your mommy, Bee. She needs you." He hugged her one more time, and then whispered into her ear. "I love you. Don't forget that."_

_She shook her head quickly. She'd never forget._

_He kissed her again, took her hand and squeezed it. And then, he was walking away again, Uncle Mikes at his side. Then her daddy was stumbling, as if in pain, and her uncle was pulling her daddy close to him. Her mommy was holding her again, and they stared after him together as he disappeared into the night..._

"I don't remember much before that." Bandit was saying quietly, bringing her story to an abrupt end. "Mommy and me left our old home soon after, and went to stay with Auntie Jamia." She was still playing with her fingers, trying to hide the fact that heartbroken tears were slipping down her young cheeks. "I never saw daddy again." She glanced away. "Mommy said Auntie Jamia, Lily, Cherry and Miles had to go away. We never saw them again either. Mommy left me here a few months ago, saying she would be back real soon. I don't know if she's coming back for me now." She shrugged. "I don't think she is." Ray couldn't look at her, not any more. He couldn't stand it. He could only imagine how hard it must have been for Gerard, to walk away, leaving his wife and daughter, his very happiness and life, behind him to go on the run, knowing he would probably never see them again. Yes, Ray had left behind the woman he adored, but he'd never even had the chance to say goodbye. Christa had made the decision for him, always knowing what was best for him, and he would always be grateful to her for that. But Gerard had had to turn his back and walk away, ignoring his child as she cried after him.

Just picturing the moment was tearing Ray apart. As was the knowledge that Gerard had died in that damned room without knowing Bandit was still alive.

Anger coursed through Ray. "It's fucking unfair!" He snarled, making Bandit jump out of her skin.

Seeing her fear, he forced himself to calm down then, and put his arm around Bandit turned then, pulling her closer to him. She was gazing up at him with large, achingly familiar, soulful eyes.

"Did you know my Daddy, Jet Star?"

Ray tightened his hold on his gun. "Yes sweetheart, I did."

Those eyes grew ever wider, making his insides churn. "Where is he?" She whispered, so innocently. "I want him back."

The Killjoy swallowed painfully as he turned and fixed the girl with what he hoped was a neutral look. He didn't know what to say. How do you tell a ten year old child that she's an orphan? He was still considering his answer, fidgeting under the weight of her stare, when Shona suddenly came marching back into the room, Grace right behind her.

"We have to move," Shona snapped, breaking the tense mood at once. "It's all clear out there. This is our chance."

Ray frowned, jumping off of the panel, down to the ground. "It's not safe, Shona;" He argued. "There's too many Drac patrols out there."

"They've been called away for some reason, who cares why?" She retorted. "We can get to the school exit unseen and then we're close to the Zone exit, where I met you guys. We'll just have to run, and hope." She tilted her head slightly. "Isn't that what you Killjoys swear by?"

That hurt. It hurt to be on his own again.

_'Be safe, Frankie.'_

Ray let out a big sigh. "I had three brothers then, watching my back. And Poison was," he broke off, looking down at the ground. "Well, he was brilliant but now he's gone. It's just me and I can't do this on my own."

Shona smiled gently. "I'm not a Killjoy," she said, softly. "But I'm not useless."

Ray waved his hand apologetically. "I know you're not. I didn't mean it like that. Look, Shona, we've got the girls to think about. Its a long way back to Zone border, I'm not gonna risk them, or you-"

Grace giggled, catching both the adults' attention, who turned as one to look at her in surprise. She had joined Bandit, and the girls were sat together, waiting for their next instruction. "We can run, Jet Star," she whispered. "Can't we, Bea?"

Bandit nodded. "I'm real tired, but I can do it." She looked up at Ray. "I won't let you down."

Ray stared at Bandit. He couldn't help but smile at her earnest face. "You're as stubborn as your dad, aren't you?"

Bandit glanced away. "I don't know."

Ray's heart hurt. After taking a moment to compose himself, he turned back to Shona. "What about the others?"

Shona frowned.

Ray glared in response. "Don't," he spat. "Don't tell me to leave them behind."

Exasperated, she gestured at him. "What can we do, Jet? Connor knows this place, the whole city, as well as I do. Probably better. He'll know every route I'll plan to take out of the city, he'll have them all well guarded. But right now, we have an opening, a way to give ourselves a chance. If we stay here, we don't even have that."

"And Billie Joe? Mike? Frank? They won't have a chance either."

She seemed to take a moment to choose her next words. "Jet Star, I'm sorry but-"

Ray took a step forward, making her recoil. "Do not say it," He warned her. "Don't you dare tell me Frank's dead."

"Fine," Shona snapped. "But the point's the same. We can't stay around here, putting the girls in danger, waiting for someone who may or may not be coming back."

Ray opened his mouth to argue again, saw the look on her face, and knew it was pointless. He glanced over at the girls again. "Grace, help Bandit," he told them. "We're leaving in five minutes."

Shona nodded at him appreciably. Ray gave her quick look, and then moved over to the far wall, checking his ray gun, knowing he was really going to need it. It was his job to get them all to the Zones safely. He was the leader of the group now, they're lives were his responsibility. He gave Bandit one last look as she and Grace put on their jackets, preparing themselves for what was coming.

Ray would keep her safe, no matter what. It was the least he owed Gerard.

XXX

The whiteness of the room was again the first thing Gerard was aware of as he painfully opened his eyes and squinted from the brightness. Hr groaned, and covered his eyes quickly, grimacing as fragments of memory returned to him. He remembered where he was and the situation he had found himself in. And then, Gerard froze. He remembered him, St Jimmy, and his face hardened. He had escaped one bastard in his dreams, only to be greeted by another when he had awakened. He moaned in pain from the dull ache in his head, which only worsened as he slowly forced himself to his feet. He would not show them any weaknesses, not this time. He knew he could fight back, had proved it so many times before. So what if he was alone? So what if they were holding on the cards? He didn't care. He would battle on to the end if he had to. He was Party Fucking Poison and he was alive. He would show them exactly what a Killjoy could do.

And he would keep St Jimmy away from Frank, whatever it took.

_Frank._

Gerard stopped, as more memories returned to him. Memories he didn't want, truths he couldn't, nor wouldn't face up to, even though he knew he had no choice. They were gone. Mikey. Ray. Frank. All of them, murdered by their enemies. He _was _the only Killjoy left, and he had never felt so alone in his life. Tears threatened to spill and he fought with all his might to keep them at bay. The scum would never see him cry, not again. They had taken everything, they would not see him break too. Not now. Not after everything.

Gerard closed his eyes, and bowed his head. He was suddenly lost in his own grief, and he felt like he was falling, spiralling into the abyss. It was all over. He would never see any of them again, the three men he loved more than life itself. His brother, his best friend and his lover. He would never hear their voices or laughter again, never feel Frank's touch, his skin next to his own…

The agonised man swore under his breath, and then spun around, slamming his fist down hard on a table beside him. What good was this? Losing control, allowing his despair to take over? Where would that get him? He had gone through hell, while asleep and awake, in order for him to take BL/I out, to make them pay and he would be damned if he would break now, and allow them to get away with the murder of the only people left alive he had loved. The brother he had sworn to protect was gone forever, and there was no bringing him, or Ray, or Frank back. He was all there was left, and he would tear the fucking godforsaken company apart, a piece at a time. Starting with St Fucking Jimmy. He began to cross the room slowly, making for the door on the far side, when his boot nudged against the smashed remains of what had once been a security camera, still laying in tatters on the ground. He stared down for a moment, actually impressed by the damage he had previously caused in his furious state. He smirked.

"Okay," he muttered, "Saint Jimmy will be the second piece then..."

He looked up quickly when he heard a noise from the other side of the locked door, and then retreated slightly when the door slid open, and Saint Jimmy strode into the room, two Draculoids close behind him, and he gave Gerard a wide smile as he approached him.

Gerard eyed the other man warily.

"How are you feeling, Party Poison?"

"Bored," the Killjoy retorted. "I hate being locked away in tiny little white rooms. How are you, Jimmy?"

Jimmy smiled, and then his gaze fixed on the broken camera at Gerard's feet. He shook his head, and tutted.

"Did the camera have it coming, Gerard?"

The former singer glared. "It's BL/I trash. It's as contaminated as everything else in this fucking fake city." His eyes bored into Jimmy's. "Including you."

"Is that right?"

"I'd rip this place apart if I could."

Jimmy's eyes widened. "Would you? Tell me, Rock Star, would you kill everybody too, if you could?"

The Killjoy hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out the question, and then snorted. "Anyone who chooses to live here makes the choice to shove your drugs down their throats, inject the shit into their blood streams, and in the process, turning themselves into mindless drones that are no fucking better than the Draculoids." He paused for a second, and then shrugged. "If they live like that, then they're already dead."

Jimmy tilted his head slightly. "That's how you see me, is it? Like the walking dead?"

Gerard suddenly felt incredibly uncomfortable, as it dawned on him that Jimmy was testing him. He narrowed his eyes, and pursed his lips together.

After a beat, he fixed Jimmy with a look of pure disdain and replied, "I see you as sick, twisted, drugged up motherfucker, Jimmy. You're scum, and you'll always be a scum."

Jimmy watched Gerard for a few moments, apparently amused at his words. "You have a lot to say, don't you, Gerard?"

Gerard smirked. "And you're surprised about that?" He grinned. "Maybe you need to do some more research."

The Exterminator stepped closer, a knowing smile on his lips. "I'm happy to listen to you talk, Killjoy. But I want to talk about something in particular."

Gerard paused. He'd expected this after all, had known from the moment he'd awakened into BL/I's clutches, that he was being kept alive for some reason. And it was finally time for him to find out what that reason was.

"What do you want?" He asked, quietly.

Jimmy looked him up and down, and then crossed his arms, taking his time, drawing out the tension as much as he could. "You must miss the others, don't you?" He mused, looking down at the ground.

Gerard hesitated for a beat, before snarling back: "What do you fucking think?"

"You could join them?" Jimmy continued.

The Killjoy eyed him, and then leaned back. "Are you going to tell me or not, Jimmy? Just what the fuck do you want from me?"

"Information."

"Yeah? Well, I've been out of the game, genius. I don't know anything."

Taking a deep breath, Jimmy fixed him with a cold stare, and then began. "We captured a rebel leader who was undercover right here, in the middle of the city. We scanned him and discovered something interesting." He smiled. "Something surprising."

Gerard was watching him intently. "Like what?"

Jimmy kept it short and sweet. "You rebels discovered some kind of weapon and are planning to use it against the City, killing thousands of innocent people in the process."

Gerard furrowed his brow.

"And what's that got to do with me?" He tilted his head to one side. "If it is even true-"

Jimmy frowned. "Oh, it's true. I trust my source-"

"Someone else you re-programmed I suppose?"

"Gerard, what is the weapon?"

"I told you I have no fucking idea."

Jimmy's eyes flashed dangerously. "I will torture you if I have to-"

"I'm sure you will," Gerard blurted out. "But it won't do you no fucking good, Jimmy. I don't know anything about any fucking weapon."

Jimmy rolled his eyes. "You are one of Death Defying's closest allies. You're his friend. Leader of the famous Killjoys. You must know something."

"Death didn't tell me everything," the Killjoy replied, softly. "He only ever told me what I needed to know." He shrugged. "I guess he figured that, whatever this weapon is, if it really exists, it wasn't any of my fucking business and I didn't need to be part of it, whatever it was. Which suits me just fucking fine." His eyes flashed. "Is that it then? Can I go now?"

Jimmy grabbed his hair, ripping his head back, earning a gasp from the other man. "You think this is fucking funny, you cocky little shit? You think I'm playing? I'm responsible for everyone in this city and I will keep them safe, whatever it takes. Don't underestimate me, Gerard."

Gerard glared back at him. "Maybe you've overestimated me, Jimmy. Maybe I'm not as important to Doc Death as you thought I was."

Jimmy released him then. "I hope for your sake," he whispered; "That that isn't the case."

They glared at each other for a few moments, and then Jimmy turned and called for a Draculoid to enter the room.

The door slid open, and a drone marched into the room, walking up to Jimmy, and offering him a shooter gun.

Gerard paled instantly. _'Not again.'_

Jimmy was smiling at his reaction. "You don't like this much, do you, Gerard?" He didn't wait for an answer, just gestured for the Draculoid to move closer to Gerard. The Killjoy instantly recoiled, but quickly found himself held firmly by two more Draculoids, who were standing behind him. Now, Gerard was locked in place, unable to defend himself. He stared angrily up at Jimmy.

"Not very original," he spat.

Jimmy shrugged. "Like I could care less. This worked for Korse, maybe it will for me too."

"I don't know about a weapon," Gerard snapped, more urgently. "I was never told about anything like that. Will you listen to me, Jimmy?"

"If you start telling me the truth, sure."

Gerard struggled as the Draculoid approached him, holding the shooter gun at the ready. "I am telling you the truth. Fuck. Don't bring that anywhere near me!"

The Draculoid ignored him.

As soon as Gerard felt the familiar sting of the needle, he knew what was coming. He gritted his teeth, and clenched his fists. He would not let it break him. Not this time. He was stronger now, he was determined to beat it. He gave in to Korse, he would be damned if he would allow Jimmy to watch him break too. Not this time. This time, he was ready.

Or that was what he told himself. When the pain came, it was worse than he even remembered.

And then, the agony was there again. It was as intense as ever, and Gerard quickly lost control. He was screaming, could hear the cries of pure agony and knew they were once again his, but he couldn't hear, couldn't see, couldn't even think. There was only that pain, that torture that was all around him, inside of him, burning him. He knew he was clawing at the floor, exactly the way he had done so before, when it had been Korse, not Jimmy, who had been smirking over him. He wanted to crawl away, to get away from that leering face, but he had no where to go.

"Listen to me, Gerard-"

Jimmy was trying to talk to him, moving his face closer to Gerard, who was clearly unable to focus on him, and recoiled in panic when Jimmy began to shout at him. "Thousands of innocent people will die, Gerard. That's what Connor told us. Whatever you fucking rebels are planning, it's gonna wipe out countless lives. I know you don't want that happen, I know you ain't that kind of man. Help me stop this before it's too late. Tell me about the weapon. Just _tell_ me!"

Finally, the pain eased, and Gerard stopped writhing and laid still at Jimmy's feet, his chest rising and falling gently once more. He took a few moments to compose himself, then turned to face Jimmy, and gave the man a small smile.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Jimmy. Can't you get that? _I don't fucking know_!"

"You have to stop lying, Gerard. I need this information, and you're my best option. Tell me what I want to know."

Gerard grimaced, the after effect of the torture drug still causing his body to spasm. He didn't even look at Jimmy, he simply stared at the ground.

"Look at me, Gerard," Jimmy pressed.

The Killjoy still didn't react.

Jimmy raised an eyebrow, waiting for Gerard to respond. When the other man didn't speak a word further, the Exterminator shrugged, and then beckoned the Draculoid forward once more. Gerard flinched when he felt the needle pricking his bare skin once more.

"Last chance, Poison;" Jimmy warned. "Are you going to tell me about the weapon?"

Gerard chuckled coldly, and gave a very small, very pained shake of his head. "Are you deaf or just very fucking dumb? What part of "I don't know" can you not understand?"

Jimmy smiled. "Whatever you want, babe."

With one nod, the Draculoid once more injected the cocktail of agony into the victim's arm.

And then stood back to watch.

Gerard's screams once again filled the small room. He threw his head back and wailed as that familiar agony took hold of him once again. His blood was boiling in his veins, his head was ready to explode and very quickly, there was nothing but his own personal hell. The torture lasted a few seconds longer than the first dose, and it took Gerard a little longer to remember where he was when he once again found himself lying on his back, panting harshly, staring up into Jimmy's expectant face.

"What is the weapon, Gerard?" Jimmy repeated, toying with his mask, averting his eyes' from the other man's suffering. "Tell me what I need to know and this stops."

This time, Gerard actually laughed.

Jimmy frowned, clearly unnerved by the tortured man's defiance. "Something funny, Killjoy?"

"You're wasting your time," Gerard gasped softly. "I can't tell you what I don't fucking _know_!"

Jimmy gaze down at him for a second, and then shrugged.

"Have it your way, Not-so-Cherry Top," Jimmy retorted, waving toward the doctor once more, who edged close to Gerard again, a cruel twitch on his lips. "I'm in no rush. I got all day."

The doctor held up the shooter gun.

Jimmy ordered softly. "Level three, please."

Gerard closed his eyes.

XXX

Frank and Luka were making their way down the winding corridors through the detention centre, edging their way. They had gotten out of the tunnels, finding themselves in a maze of white, hoping against hope that they were going the right way.

Wherever they were trying to get to.

They were aware the Mike and Billie Joe were there somewhere, lost, maybe captured, and both Luka and Frank that they didn't want to leave without knowing how their friends were. Plus, their mission was to find Mikey, and now that they'd made it into the City, they knew they wouldn't get a similar opportunity any time soon.

They just had to keep going. As long as they stuck together, they were okay.

"I think we've been down here before..." Frank hissed.

Luka gave him a look. "How can you tell? Which white corridor ,looks familiar?"

Frank smiled, despite himself. "Getting smart, Luka?"

"What do you mean, getting?"

They grinned at one another.

"If this fucking place wasn't so white, and didn't look all the same," Luka continued, "We'd know where the hell-"

Frank held up a hand sharply, and Luka broke off. They both listened intently.

The two men glanced at each other. They'd both heard it. Footsteps. Luka signalled to Frank that he would go first, and Frank nodded his understanding.

After a moment of steeling themselves, the two of them walked carefully around the corner, Luka leading the way, guns at the ready. The first Draculoid noticed the rebels and sprang forward, shooting wildly, missing Frank by inches. Luka calmly lined up a shot, and fired, and the Drac went down. Frank grinned at Luka, and then swung round, hearing movement behind them. A second Draculoid was coming up behind them. The Killjoy pushed Luka back, taking a shot. The Drac let out a gasp, and fell down.

Frank smiled. He took Luka's hand, and the other man returned the grin. "Let's go," Frank whispered. Luka nodded, and started to turn. And that was when he saw the slight movement out of the corner of his eye. The Draculoid Frank had thought he'd finished was still alive, holding its left arm painfully. And it's gun was raised in it's right hand, pointing straight at Frank. With a warning shout, Luka dived in front of Frank, just as the Draculoid fired. Frank heard Luka cry out, and crash to the ground. He knew his friend had taken a hit, and knew he needed to protect him. Frank whirled around, seeing the Draculoid aiming for the Croat once again. Frank didn't hesitate, he opened fire on the drone before it had a chance to do any more damage.

The ray gun shots hit true, and the Draculoid fell where it stood, and this time, it didn't get up again. Frank let out a sigh of relief, and then turned.

"Luka, it's dead, man. We gotta-"

And that was when Frank saw his friend, still lying where he had fallen, his arms in an awkward angle. With an ever growing feeling of dread, Frank ran back over to where Luka lay.

"Luka?" Frank snapped, urgently, pulling him into his arms. "Luka, talk to me!"

"It's dark," Luka whispered, not focusing on Frank. "So dark. Why is it dark, Frank?"

Frank glanced down, seeing the wound on Luka's chest, the shot that had hit him in his heart. He knew it was over and there was nothing he could do. He closed his eyes. He pulled Luka closer to him.

"Why did you do that?" He moaned. "You idiot."

Luka shivered. "You're worth it, Frank."

Frank's eyes met Luka's, and Frank knew what would happen. He'd seen the light fading in brown eyes before, and he felt the pain and devastation building up within him.

"Hold on," Frank urged him. "You're gonna be okay. I'll get you help. Please Luka, don't leave..."

The former footballer smiled up at him, a gentle smile, a smile of reassurance. And then, he breathed softly, and slumped down, his head resting against Frank's arm.

"Luka?" Frank whispered.

There was no response.

"No," the Killjoy moaned. "Oh, please, no."

But he knew it was too late. Luka had gone.

Frank held Luka tightly to him, his shoulders shaking as he allowed the tears to fall, knowing that another good person had been lost to the war. The war it seemed they had no chance of winning...

_'The tears would never stop now_.'

Frank had been here before. Only the last man who had died in his arms had been-

He saw red hair. He saw a smile that made his heart sore. He felt his embrace, his touch, his kiss.

Oh God, he missed him so much.

Frank could not contain his emotions any more. He gave into the pain, and slumped forwards, tears streaming down his face.

He had lost everything. He couldn't save anybody.

After a few more moments, Frank looked up, his tears drying. He couldn't let this all fall apart now, not after he had come so far. He would not let Luka down like this. Yes, his friend was gone, but to break down now would only dishonour him, and everyone else who had put their faith in him. He had to dry his eyes, and keep going. He stood up slowly, looking down at Luka, fighting back yet more tears. Then, he took hold of his friend's body, and began to pull him across the floor.

Frank whimpered from the effort and despair he was feeling as he dragged Luka's body out of sight. He could only hope that he would have the chance to get out of there, and make Luka's sacrifice worthwhile before his friend's body was discovered.

Frank leaned over the remains of the man that had put so much faith in him, and kissed his forehead, noting that he was still warm. The thought filled him with grief and he closed his eyes, desperate to fight against the tears threatening to spill.

"Bye buddy," he whispered. "Say hey to Gareth for me." He swallowed hard. "And if you see-"

He broke off. He couldn't finish the sentence. If he did, he'd break down.

Ghoul could almost hear Party Poison at his side, hear his whispered urging of:

_'Keep running, Frank.'_

With one last long, sad look at Luka, Frank turned, and ran.

XXX

Gerard was laying on the floor, his body still trembling after the latest onslaught he'd faced. The torture drug was making its way out of his system slowly, and all he could do was lie there and wait for the pain to subside. A thousands thoughts were going through Gerard's agonised brain as he lay there, not wanting to move due to the cruel tremors. This was all so familiar to him, being tortured by drugs, lying at a smirking bastard's feet, unable to defend himself. To anybody looking on, the situations would seem identical, expect for swapping a taunting Korse for a smug Saint Jimmy. But Gerard knew this was different, he could feel it within him. The drugs were as destructive ever, and he could feel the agony caused to him to his very core, but he was not allowing it to consume him this time. He did not fight to escape the prison in his head, to escape Korse, to fade away to nothing now he was alive again. He wouldn't let Jimmy win. He would not give up. He would fight to the end, no matter when that turned out to be.

He would do it for Frank, Mikey and Ray. He would make them proud.

As his body was finally turning numb, and the pain therefore leaving him, Gerard dared to allow a small smile of satisfaction.

He heard a snort from close by, and knew Jimmy had moved to stand beside him. Gerard turned his head slightly, and saw Jimmy glaring down at him. "What do you have to smile about?" The Exterminator snapped.

Gerard shrugged. "You've been torturing me for ages now, asking me the same questions, and you still haven't figured out that I don't fucking know what you're talking about." The Killjoy shook his head slightly. "I don't know about you, Jim, but I think that's fucking funny."

Jimmy couldn't stop himself. He gave Gerard a spiteful kick in the ribs, gaining a small moan. "Don't call me Jim, you little fucker."

Gerard rolled over onto his front, his eyes closed. "Korse was a lot more scary, Jimmy. Give it up."

Jimmy's face darkened even further. He was visibly fighting the urge to kick the life out of the man who stubbornly refused to give in. Instead, he drove forward, grabbed Gerard's short hair, and ripped his head back, putting his lips against the other man's ear, causing him to flinch.

"You think your smart, don't you, Gerard?"

Gerard didn't reply. He kept his eyes shut, not giving the man the satisfaction of gaining a reaction from him.

Jimmy smiled coldly. "You think I won't hurt you like Korse did? Korse hated you, that's true and I don't care about you very much full stop." He nibbled on his prisoner's ear. "You never were my favourite Killjoy, you know-"

Gerard, letting out a low, furious cry, shoved him away at that. "Get the fuck away from me, or I swear to God, I'll give you another scar!"

Jimmy, bringing a hand up to his face to finger his scar, knew that he'd got to Gerard. He wasn't about to let him off now.

"Poor Frankie. I was pretty disappointed when I was told he'd blown himself to smithereens, not gonna lie."

"I told you," Gerard snarled. "Don't talk about Frank."

"Aw, but we could share stories." Jimmy purred. "You remember how good it felt, don't you? To stick your dick into that boy's sweet hole?" He grinned. "Because I'll never forget what it was like to fuck him into the sand-"

Gerard couldn't listen to another taunting word. With a growl that seemed to come from his very soul, he flung himself at Jimmy, trying to force his hands around the other man's throat. Whether he wanted to kill him or not, Gerard wasn't so sure, but he knew he needed to man to shut the fuck up.

Very quickly though, the Draculoid guards seized hold of him, and dragged him away from Jimmy. He fought against their holds, but there was no escaping their grips. After a moment of composing himself, Jimmy got back up to his feet, and stalked toward his seething prisoner.

"Little bit sensitive there, Gerard?"

Gerard struggled desperately. "You raped Frank, you bastard."

"Yeah, I did. Guess what though? He enjoyed it." Jimmy shrugged. "And then, he saved my life. Complicated, isn't it?"

Gerard took a deep breath. "Frank and I loved each other. We were fucking soulmates. He didn't want you, Jimmy."

There was a glint in Jimmy's eye when he next met Gerard's gaze. "Oh yeah?" He crouched down beside the other man. "But what if love's great dream came about_ because of me_?"

Gerard blinked. "Bullshit."

Jimmy's smile was one of pure evil. "Maybe I should remind you, babe? Do you remember when you and I had some fun?"

The Killjoy frowned. "When you abused me, you mean?"

"Aw, come on now. You loved it."

"You're deluded."

Jimmy laughed. "Anyway, when I was questioning you that day, I used drugs that pushed my will onto yours. You'd have done anything I told you to. Including when I told you that you should, eh, get closer to Fun Ghoul..."

Gerard stared at him. "You're lying. That wasn't..."

He paused, turning away quickly. He was showing far too much emotion, but he couldn't help himself. He missed Frank more with every passing moment, and for it to be claimed that the love he felt for his boyfriend was because of Saint fucking Jimmy – he couldn't stand it.

After a second, he turned back. "I don't believe you."

The Exterminator shook his head. "Well, you believe whatever makes you happy, Cherry Baby." He tilted his head. "You gotta admit though, it makes you wonder, doesn't it? Would you be in love with Frank if I'd never ordered you to be?"

Gerard wanted to leap at him. "You son of a bitch," he muttered.

Jimmy laughed softly, pressing his lips to Gerard's cheek in a mocking display of affection. "You just think about that."

When Jimmy finally backed away from Gerard again, the Killjoy had his head bowed, his eyes closed.

He didn't react when Jimmy cleared his throat.

"Listen to me, Party Poison," Jimmy whispered. "I don't actually want to hurt you. I'm doing this because I'm trying to save thousands of fucking lives. We know there is a weapon that you rebels have found and hidden, and we know it could destroy this entire city and everyone inside, every man, woman and child. I know you don't want to be responsible for mass murder, Gerard, so tell me what I need to know. Just tell me how to find the weapon."

Very carefully, Gerard looked up. His expression was one of pure disdain. "I don't fucking KNOW!"

Jimmy punched his fist into the wall beside him. "Stop lying to me!"

"Can't you fucking get it, Jimmy? I'm not lying to you. If there is a weapon, I was never told about it! I DON'T KNOW!"

Jimmy had clearly run out of patience. "Fine!" He stuck his hands into the pockets of his long cloak, and pulled out a small bottle filled with pills. "If this is how you want it. Hold him steady."

The Draculoid obeyed, and Gerard found himself unable to move. Jimmy suddenly had hold of him, forcing his mouth open with his fingers. "Swallow these, you little shit," he spat.

Gerard tried to spit them out, but he couldn't. The pills were quickly slipping down his throat, and he gagged.

Jimmy waited for a few moments, and then said, softly; "Gerard?"

The other man rose his head slowly.

Jimmy grinned. "Good. The control pills never fail me. Okay, Killjoy. You're gonna answer all of my questions, understood?"

His prisoner grimaced, and then nodded.

Jimmy clasped his hands together. "That's better. Now then, I want you to tell me everything you know about the weapon, doll. And quickly."

"Which weapon?" Gerard responded.

The other man frowned. "There's more than one?"

Gerard actually smirked. "Any person with half a brain cell has a fully working weapon they can use against a stupid asshole like you, Jimmy."

The Exterminator was standing perfectly still, breathing harshly. He shook his head in disbelief. "How the fucking hell-"

"Oh please," Gerard snapped. "You think we don't have pills to work against the effects of your BL/I shit? We have clever people too, you know."

Jimmy slapped Gerard across the face. Gerard spat onto the floor, and grinned.

"You thought it would be that easy, Jimmy?"

The Exterminator held his gaze for a moment as they took each other on in a battle of wills. Jimmy looked away first, and Gerard felt a flash of victory.

It didn't last long.

Jimmy whistled, and a third Draculoid entered the room.

"Bring in the Re-programmer," Jimmy instructed the Drac, then turned and smiled at Gerard. The Draculoid bowed, and hurried from the room.

Gerard's reaction was immediate. "No," he snapped. "You are not using that fucking thing on me again!" He tried to move away, but was grabbed from behind by a Draculoid, who held him a little too tightly, and he gasped out in pain.

Jimmy sauntered towards Gerard, smirking at him. He clicked his fingers, and the two Draculoids forced Gerard to kneel.

Gerard struggled vainly, which made Jimmy's smile widen.

"Last chance, Cherry Top," Jimmy whispered. "Where's the weapon? What's the plan?"

"I don't know!" Gerard snapped. "Don't do this! I'm telling you the truth. Don't wipe me, for fucks sake!"

"Who ever said anything about wiping you?" Jimmy purred, and then glanced over his shoulder to see the Draculoid had returned with the device that Gerard recognised only too well. He waved the drone forward, and it approached Gerard ominously. "It can do a lot more than wipe your mind blank. It can search through your memories too. Usually happens while the subject is asleep though. I'd assume this will be pretty painful."

Gerard let out a low moan, and tried to get to Jimmy, but he was held fast.

Despite the Killjoys best efforts to resist, he soon find himself with the Re-programmer fixed to his head, his breathing laboured, as he stared up at Jimmy, wide-eyed.

"One more chance," Jimmy warned. "Don't be stupid. Tell me about the weapon, and then this is all over."

"Go to hell," Gerard snapped, "I can't tell you what I don't know!" He screwed his eyes shut, preparing himself for whatever was about to happen. his eyes tightly shut, waiting for the pain he knew was coming.

Jimmy sighed, and then indicated to the Draculoid guard, standing over the controls to the device. He turned a switch, and the Re-Programmer sprang into life.

Seconds passed, and then Gerard's screams of anguish filled the room. He was allowed to fall to the ground, and writhed helplessly on the floor as the machine took control of him. Jimmy couldn't help but wince as he watched him.

He gestured, and the Draculoid, almost begrudgingly, switched off the machine.

"Tell me, Gerard." He said, quietly. "Don't make me do this to you any more."

Gerard was shaking. After a moment, he managed to speak, brokenly: "_Didn't tell me..._"

"Have it your way, you stupid, bone headed, dick." Jimmy leaned against the wall, watching Gerard's agony closely. "Start again," he instructed the Draculoid, who nodded. "This time, search through all of his memories. Burn his brain out of his head if you have to. We'll soon find out if he's telling the truth." He shrugged. "Either way, we're on to a winner. He'll be reunited with his precious Killjoys, he should be grateful..."

The machine was activated once more. The excruciating pain blew up inside Gerard's head again, and he wailed. It was too much. He couldn't see, couldn't think. He was going to be sick. His head was going to explode, he knew it. He had to make them stop.

He managed to let out a small whimper. "_No. Please._"

As quickly as the pain had come, it was gone again. Gerard opened his eyes carefully, to find Jimmy's smug face right next to his own. He was also being held up once again by the two watching Draculoids.

"Maybe a small break would be a good idea?" Jimmy whispered, peering closely into Gerard's agonised face. "Just to let you recharge your batteries, Party Poison?"

The re-programmer was quickly removed from Gerard's head, and his arms were yet again released. He immediately slumped to the floor as relief flooded through him. Jimmy watched him for a moment, and then gestured once again to the two Draculoid guards. "Take him to a cell. We will continue once our friend here feels ready to proceed."

As Gerard was pulled toward the exit, he leaned closer to Jimmy, who was now the one smiling. "You are wasting your time, Jimmy. Whatever you think I know, you're wrong."

Jimmy chuckled, looking on as Gerard was supported to the doorway by his Draculoid guards, one holding Gerard a little too tightly, causing the weak man to whimper.

"We'll see, Cherry baby."

XXX

Michael had no idea how much time had passed since he had entered the Zones. He had found it a struggle since the man called Bob had dropped him off, and he had never felt so alone. The wind constantly battered him, the sun was so hot, so burning, and the air itself made him feel sick. He understood why citizens were told not to venture outside the limits. It was for their own good. No one should be forced to live like that. Michael could not believe that some people actually choose to. BL/I, their drugs and the safety of the city was surely a better option than this...

He paused. Not for the red haired man it hadn't been. The man who had been stripped of everything, his freedom, his mind, his very dignity, and still Michael had no idea why. Why had she done that to him?

He saw her body falling down before him. Felt himself pulling the trigger. Saw the light leaving her eyes. He closed his eyes, and whimpered. When would she leave him be?

When would it end?

He held a hand up, protecting his face, as the wind crashed against him once again. The sun was going down, and he knew he didn't want to be out in the open when night fell. The animals, the scavengers would come when the harmful suns rays were gone. He felt his gun against his hip, and frowned. He needed somewhere to stay, somewhere to seek cover. But where was he supposed to go?

He was so lost in his own thoughts and fears, he didn't hear them sneaking up on him. When he looked up at and saw the figure rushing at him, it was already far too late.

They came at him, one from ahead of him, the others from the side. Within seconds, they had him down on the ground, screaming blue murder, and completely at their mercy.

There were three of them, one actually having climbed on top of him, straddling him, forcing his face down into the sand. The other two had hold of his arms, keeping him immobile He couldn't move, couldn't see a way out. And he was terrified.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He tried to buck the largest man off of him. "Get off of me!"

"Don't stress yourself, baby. We're gonna look after you good!

Michael, eyes watering, struggled desperately, but all they did was laugh at him.

"We're gonna rip you apart, pretty!" The first man drawled in his ear.

The former Exterminator hissed in pain, trying to free himself, but it was useless. There were three of them, and one of him, and the first man, with a sickening leer, was reaching for Michael's belt.

He yelled out in fury, trying to kick them off of him, but nothing would make them budge.

"Been waiting so long for something so sweet-"

"Stop!" A man was shouting angrily, running towards them, and the three man suddenly looked up, the first one glaring furiously at the newcomer. "Let him go."

"He's a fucking Drac!" The man still straddling Michael yelled back. "Look at him! So clean, so unspoiled. He's come from the city!"

"I said," the other man said, warningly. "Let him go."

After a few seconds hesitation, all three men released Michael and moved away from him. Michael, with a grunt of pain, picked himself up, and brushed the sand off of his clothes. Squinting, he looked up, and took a step back at the sight that greeted him.

There were suddenly seven of them, and they were all looking at him suspiciously, guns raised, ready to pounce on Michael if he made a wrong move.

They all surrounded him, as he looked from face to face. There was not a kind look amongst them.

"Who are you?" He asked, softly.

The man that had pinned him to the ground stepped forward, and Michael recoiled. "We're scavengers babe, that's it. This is our Zones and we don't like outsiders. So, wanna tell us who you are, sweet cheeks?"

"That's enough, Viper." Another man stepped forward, an older man with a kinder face. He had a beard and his clothes were just as ragged and tattered as the cruel man's. "My name is Leon. You've got nothing to fear from any of us."

The man he called "Viper," laughed at that, and two other men standing close to him snickered too. Michael hated all of them.

Taking a deep breath, he addressed the other man, the man known as Leon, who the others apparently at least listened to.

"I've escaped from Better Living-" He begun, but the others reacted noisily to his words, so he broke off.

"No one escapes from the city," Viper snapped. "Unless they've been 'set loose.'

Michael gritted his teeth. "I was re-programmed, broke the control, and got out. That's it. Not an exciting story."

"Really?" Viper purred.

"Enough!" Leon snapped at him. Giving the younger man a look of pure disdain, Leon then moved closer to Michael and offered his hand. "What's your name, son?"

Michael hesitated for a second. 'Michael' was too dangerous. It wouldn't take much for them to put two and two together, once they realised an Exterminator had gone missing. He thought quickly, and he had no idea where the name came from, it just popped into his head.

He shook Leon's hand, and gave him a small nod. "I'm James," he told him.

"Good to meet you, James," the older man said. "Stay with us as long as you want."

There was more smirking from Viper and his cronies at that. Michael ignored them, and smiled at Leon appreciatively. "Thank you."

Leon stuck his hands in his jacket pockets. "So, where are you heading?"

"Zone Two," Michael replied. "There's a rebel base there, and I'm hoping to join up with them.

The men exchanged glances. "Which rebel base is that?"

Michael considered this. "I don't know the name," he replied. "But I know the leader is called Doctor Death Defying..."

The men around him began to laugh at that. Michael glanced at Viper, who rolled his eyes at him, but didn't speak.

"Oh please!" One of the young men that had stayed silent until that moment found his voice.

"Kids stories..." Another called.

Leon held up a hand, and they all shushed. "I've heard about Doctor Death Defying," he mused. "We've all heard the stories. 'Doctor Death and the Killjoys.' Thought it was just a story though. Never seen any sign of him or his rebels and I've been crossing these Zones for a long time..."

Michael shrugged. "I've not just heard rumours, I've seen things too. He exists, and the Killjoys too."

Viper stepped forward. "The Killjoys are all dead," he threw in. "Everyone knows that."

"We don't know that," Leon retorted. "We've heard word of mouth, that's all."

Viper smiled nastily. "You know what else I heard about them? That their leader became an Exterminator's prize bitch before he was fried-"

Michael didn't know why, but he was suddenly clenching his fists as anger swirled deep within him. Viper noticed.

"Something wrong, buddy?" He drawled.

Michael shook his head, and looked away.

There was a stony silence, until finally, Leon cleared his throat. "We've been wandering the Zones for long enough, trying to find somewhere we can belong, a rebel force we can join. This sounds the best bet. I say we go with James here."

The three gang members nearest Leon all nodded in agreement. The other three, the three who had ambushed Michael, seemed less keen.

"We don't need no help," the first spoke up. "We got each other. We don't even know if we can trust this pretty boy, do we?"

Michael cringed. He certainly wasn't used to being referred to in such a way, and he didn't like it.

Leon was frowning. "It's up to you, Viper. You, Skull and Jex wanna go your own ways, that's-"

"Hey!" Viper cut across him, holding up his hands. "I never said that. Just suggesting caution is all."

"Noted," Leon nodded curtly. "Always appreciative of your advice."

Viper smirked. "I know you are, boss."

There was an uncomfortable moment between the two men, with Michael stuck in the middle, glancing at both of them. Finally, Leon turned his back on the other man.

"We need to get moving," he barked, with authority. His leadership qualities reminded Michael of someone... someone important. If only he could remember who. "It will be dark soon." Leon was saying. "We'll need to set up a camp, get a fire going."

Viper edged closer to Michael. "It's dangerous," he drawled. "To be out in the Zones at night. Lots of nasty people. Did you know that, James?"

Michael crossed his arms across his chest. "I don't remember," he replied quickly.

Viper grinned, coldly. "This is my pal, Skull, by the way. And his younger brother, Jex."

Michael didn't speak, didn't even flinch. He merely stared right back.

Viper was suddenly in his face. "It's manners to say hello when you are introduced to somebody, boy..."

"Get out of my face." Michael hissed.

Viper glared daggers at him. Skull and Jex moved to stand beside him.

Leon had seen enough.

"Viper!" He snapped. "Lets go."

Viper inclined his head, and then gestured to Michael.

"After you..." A smirk. "James."

Michael gave him a cold stare, and then walked on ahead, rushing to catch up with Leon. He'd only known the man for a few minutes, but at least he felt safe with him. Safer than with Viper anyway.

Michael didn't see Viper and Skull exchanging a look together as they followed behind the others, with Jex bringing up the rear, smirking to himself.

It was not a nice look.

XXX

Gerard was pulled along between the two Draculoids. He was exhausted. It was hard to believe that he had endured as much as he had since he had awakened. Beaten, tortured, drugged, and even had been forced to face the re-programmer once again. The machine that had so recently nearly been the cause of his death. And Jimmy had smiled as he had put that fucking thing back on Gerard's head, laughed in the face of Gerard's fear.

Gerard hated him. He would wipe the smirk off of the fucking rapists face. And he would do it for Frank.

He suddenly found himself pushed against a wall, and was aware that he had arrived at "his" cell. He grimaced as he was held in place by one of the Drac guards, an arm to his throat, while the other typed in a key code, and the cell door slid open. Gerard then found himself shoved into the small room, and he was suddenly on the floor, whimpering slightly from the sudden pain. He groaned as he pulled himself up into a sitting position, and then turned when he heard the two Draculoids whispering to each other, so quietly he couldn't hear them.

He narrowed his eyes. _'Now what?'_

He watched, growing ever more nervous, as one of the Draculoids inclined it's head to the other, turned, and walked away, without giving Gerard even a backward glance. The other turned to face Gerard, looked over it's shoulder again briefly, and then stepped into the room, with him.

They merely looked at each other for a moment, until the Draculoid raised a hand, grasped his mask, and pulled it off, over his head. He then threw it down onto the ground, before lifting his head to once again fix Gerard with a cold, nasty stare.

Gerard was unnerved, but knew better than to show it. "I'm feeling a bit tired, actually." He said it almost nonchalantly, although he was feeling the opposite of nonchalant inside. "If you could close the door behind..."

He trailed off slightly as the man began to walk silently towards him and he realised that there was something definitely not right. This Scarecrow, because that was what this drone was, not a Draculoid after all, his eyes seemed totally focused on Gerard, but not as if he were really seeing him. It was as if he was seeing something else, a long way away. Gerard took a cautious step backwards, which made the Scarecrow smile smugly.

"Lock," the Crow ordered in a vicious, rough voice, and the door hummed shut.

The next thing Poison knew, he was lying on his back on the floor and his face hurt. _Really _hurt. He was stunned. He looked up just in time to see the man, letting out a cry of anger, drop to his knees on top of him and his fist come towards him. Gerard flung his forearm up to block the blow, and yelled out in shocked pain. His arm fell uselessly to his side. Was it actually broken? Just how harshly was this man beating him? As the insane 'Crow proceeded to pummel him, aiming punch after punch at his face, Gerard tried to scream for help but couldn't open his mouth. Blood poured out from between his lips and he choked.

Another blow, this time to his ribs, and suddenly Gerard gathered that he was truly in serious trouble. This man wasn't just trying to beat him up. This was not a normal BL/I punishment; this particular Scarecrow was trying to kill him, and Gerard could not fathom why.

The sick 'Crow paused, finally halting his blows. He leaned closer to his bloodied and beaten victim and for the first time, Gerard got to see the pure hate on that face, and it made his blood run cold.

"Look at me, you dirty little Killjoy bastard."

Gerard didn't dare refuse. He looked the man in the eyes, and shivered at the clear rage he saw there.

"You'll pay," The 'Crow hissed. "You'll pay for his death."

Gerard shook his head weakly. He didn't understand.

The man smiled evilly as his hands tightened around Gerard's throat.

"You can fucking die too now, you rebel piece of shit..."

Gerard couldn't breath. He stared into those raging eyes and knew this was it. He had survived Korse, fought back from being re-programmed and this was how it all ended. Murdered by a lowly Scarecrow in a Better Living cell.

He closed his eyes. He couldn't fight this maniac, couldn't get away from him.

He knew he was fading.

Gerard didn't hear the door sliding open again, nor the cry of fury from the man who had entered.

"_I don't fucking think so!"_

Suddenly, the grip on his throat was lessening, and Gerard could breath again. He coughed, fighting for air, and pulled himself up, despite the agony he was feeling, and was astonished to see the Scarecrow had been pinned against the wall, and he was the one now having his face pummelled, by a large man, wearing a Draculoid mask, but certainly not behaving like a typical drone.

"Fucking asshole!" Gerard's saviour was shouting into the other man's face, his voice distorted by the Drac mask he was wearing. "Who the fuck said you could touch my lead singer, huh?"

Gerard blinked. _'What the hell did he just say?' _He took a step forward, and then fell back down the ground again, letting out a low gasp, unable to stay on his feet. Not after the battering he had taken. He had faced worst, that was true, but shit, this hurt.

The man who had saved him glanced down at him, saw his discomfort, swore and then aimed a hard, true punch to the Scarecrow's face. His aim was true, and the 'Crow was knocked unconscious. The newcomer released him, and the drone slowly slipped down the wall, where he lay on the ground, unmoving.

There was a nervous pause as the two men regarded each other, the masked man leaning against the wall to catch his breath, Gerard still perched on the floor, his hand covering his mouth, not only to calm the blood flow, but also in his surprise.

He stared at the man in stunned silence. The other took a step toward him.

"Gerard... Fuck me..."

Gerard's eyes widened. Taking a moment to steady himself, he replied; "You said... you mentioned lead singer... who are you?"

The man let out a strangled laugh. "Jesus, Gerard. Are none of you My Chem bastards gonna fucking remember me?!"

The Killjoy stopped dead. He shook his head, wordlessly. And then, he smiled.

"Fucking hell. Bob?"

The larger man paused, regarding the other man through his mask. With a heavy sigh, he pulled off his protection, and then met Gerard's eyes once more, this time face to face.

"Hello, Gee..."

Gerard looked as though he couldn't believe his eyes. He couldn't help but laugh, and then Bob was pulling him up, and he was falling into the larger man's arms and hugging him tightly, as if he would never let go.

"I thought you were finished... Long gone..." He whispered, tears threatening to spill.

"You too, pal," Bob replied, pressing his face down into Gerard's short hair. "Can't believe you finally woke up, took you long enough!"

Gerard pulled back, confused.

"What do you mean?"

Bob grinned. "You didn't think I'd leave you to suffer in this fucking place alone? Someone had to keep an eye on you..."

Gerard hugged Bob again. He knew what the man was saying, but part of him was still stunned. Bob had watched over him as he had been sleeping. Suddenly, Gerard was very aware that if it hadn't been for his former drummer, he would not be alive now.

"Okay," Bob said, taking control, and pulling back, releasing his hold on the other man. "We have to fucking get you out of here. I haven't been able to let any of your people know that you're even alive, its been so crazy round here." He smiled fondly. "You guys have caused all kinds of trouble..."

It took Gerard a second to cotton on to what Bob had said. '_You guys...'_

Gerard opened his mouth to question the other man, but Bob shook his head hurriedly. "Questions later, buddy. Got to get you out of here. Right fucking now."

And then Bob was supporting Gerard to the door. "Open," he barked, and they were both relieved to see the door slide open once more.

But they never quite made it through the door.

With an angry roar, the fallen Scarecrow was up and rushing for Gerard once more. Gerard put his arms up, terrified by the sudden ferocious attack, and again Bob protected him, throwing himself in front of his old friend. As Bob and the Scarecrow wrestled with each other on the cell floor, Gerard looked on, trying to intervene, ready to fling himself into the melee.

"Gerard!" Bob gasped. "Go!"

The 'Crow growled angrily, trying to scramble clear of Bob, to get to Gerard.

"But..." Gerard began to argue, but Bob cut across him, now yelling:

"Don't be a fucking idiot! Just run! I'll come get you once I'm done here!"

Gerard didn't want to run. He hesitated for a few seconds longer.

"Fucks sake, Gee!" Bob screamed. "Do you still not fucking listen? GO!"

That did it. Gerard knew Bob was right. This particular Scarecrow wanted him dead, and would indeed kill them both given half a chance. In his weakened state, he was basically useless. Better to run and live and fight back another day. And with that, Gerard turned tail and rushed out of the cell, making his way along the corridor outside at a limp, using the wall to aid his journey. He kept going, constantly looking over his shoulder, praying that Bob would come along behind and grab him. But a few seconds later, and there was no sign of Bob. Gerard heard footsteps ahead of him, and he looked around, panicking. That was when he saw the small space in the wall, leading to a tiny alcove, just big enough for him to fit inside.

Moving as quickly as he was able, and biting his wrist to stop him crying out from the pain, Gerard scrambled into the gap in the wall, finding himself in a little room, which he glanced around quickly. He stayed there, holding his breath, as a small patrol of Dracs rushed by. He bit his lip nervously.

Why were they in such a hurry?

Please be okay, Bob.

Gerard leaned his head heavily against the wall, trying to catch his breath. He listened intently, hoping to hear Bob approaching, or calling out for him. Gerard punched the wall in annoyance. If anything happened to Bob, if another life was lost because of him... it would be too much. He would not care any longer, even if he had to come back completely on his own, armed with a bazooka, he would go out in a blaze of glory, and take out as many of the BL/I filth as he could...

He was so lost in his thoughts, and desperation to hear anything from Bob, he never heard anyone creeping up behind him...

"Still running, rebel?"

Gerard, so shocked to hear the voice from behind him, moved far too slowly. Before he could even register that the Scarecrow that had threatened him, the 'Crow Bob had apparently dealt with, was standing right behind him, apparently entering from where it had supposedly been a "dead end," the bastard was upon him.

The Scarecrow flung himself at Gerard, forcing him to the ground, where he began to repeatedly kick and punch the stunned man. Gerard tried to fight back, to protect himself, but the 'Crow was like a man possessed, his fury unstoppable. The BL/I drone snarled furiously, grabbing hold of Gerard by his hair, and throwing him against the wall with all of his might, knocking the wind out of him. He then pinned him against the white bricks, leering into the other man's now fearful face.

"Going somewhere, Killjoy scum?" The 'Crow hissed into Gerard's ear. "That is an offence punishable by death in the city, I assume you are aware of that?" He smirked. "It's a shame though. _'Executed while trying to escape'_. Such a waste." He reached down then, and groped at Gerard through his clothes. "A real fucking waste..."

Gerard closed his eyes, willing himself to be somewhere else. He could see, and feel, nothing... One way or another, he'd be safe soon.

_'I'll be with Frank soon..._'

They stayed like that for a moment, both gasping for breath. Gerard couldn't fight back, or struggle against the 'Crow's grip, he was being held far too tightly.

Finally, with a chuckle, the 'Crow stopped touching the trapped Killjoy, but didn't release his hold on him. Gerard could do nothing but look up helplessly into the Scarecrow's face, seeing no mercy in the cold gaze. His face displayed no emotion, but his eyes were shocking to see. They were raging, fiery and black.

"You shot my kid brother in the eye, Party Poison." The 'Crow whispered. "Do you even remember doing it? That Scarecrow you murdered out in the Zones just to prove a point? I had to watch it happen. I saw you smile as you took away the only person I cared about. Sadly, I can't do the same to you. You're already alone. I can still get justice for my brother though. It's the right thing to do, don't you think?"

And without bothering to wait for a reply from Gerard, he pushed his gun into the cringing man's eye socket, and prepared to fire.

He smirked coldly as his finger covered the trigger...

And that was when two loud shots rang out, making Gerard cry out and flinch violently, and then time suddenly seemed to go into slow motion.

The Scarecrow was open-mouthed, staring down at Gerard with almost a comical look of shock. Gerard gaped up at him, every part of him still tense, waiting for the next blow. But it never came. In the next instant, the 'Crow was falling down, dropping like a stone, and landing with a thud beside where Gerard was still cowering, his hands held above his head.

He was dead, having taken three gun shot blasts to the back. He wouldn't hurt Gerard again.

Which left the ex Killjoy leader in a tiny alcove, beaten and bruised by a destroyed Scarecrow, alone with a rebel fighter that had just inadvertently saved his life.

The other man, his unexpected guardian angel, was breathing harshly, glaring from Gerard to the dead Scarecrow at his feet. He quickly moved further into the room, causing Gerard to flinch, keeping his face to the wall, and then the rebel glanced hurriedly over his shoulder, as if he expected the room to be overrun by Drac guards at any moment. When he was facing the other way, Gerard shot the man a quick glance, not daring to look at him for longer than a second. Gerard could see he definitely wasn't of BL/I employ. He was a rebel, just like Party Poison himself had once been.

Gerard pressed himself further against the wall, his eyes still locked on the dead Scarecrow lying in a crumpled heap beside him. With a soft sigh, he closed his eyes and waited, wondering if the rebel would just open fire and finish the job. He wondered what he looked like, slumped against the wall, wearing something close to a hospital gown, shivering from the pain he had just experienced. Poison didn't know what the rebel's intentions were, why he was there. Had he just escaped too, and was finding his way out, or was this an assassination mission. Hell, perhaps _he_ was the target! Mikey had been turned into an Exterminator, hadn't he? Maybe the other rebels had discovered he was alive and had decided he knew too much and needed to be silenced. Gerard didn't try to run, or fight, or even move. What was the point? If this rebel wanted to, he could finish him before Gerard had even tried to stand up.

He cringed as the other man walked slowly up to him, and glancing quickly to the side, he saw the rebel was indeed covering Gerard with his gun.

_'Sensible,'_ Gerard thought. _'Not taking any chances. He knows what he's doing.'_

"Citizen," The rebel asked him, in hushed tones. "Are you okay?" Gerard could hear him moving forward cautiously, not getting too close. "Are you a prisoner here?"

Gerard frowned. There was something similar...

The man spoke again. "Don't be scared. I won't hurt you."

Gerard couldn't help but feel somewhat unimpressed. Was this rebel soft? He was being far too nice, too caring!

"What's your name?" The rebel pressed. "I'm Ghoul..."

Gerard froze, not even daring to breathe.

_Ghoul..._

He shook his head. No.

_'He's dead.' _

_'They said he was dead.'_

But that voice... A voice Gerard knew only to well, a voice he loved, and a voice he had believed he would never hear again...

He could hear him now. Loud and clear.

The dazed Killjoy remained where he was, shaking his head desperately.

"I asked you," the rebel snapped, more urgently; "Are you being kept prisoner here? This is the prison, isn't it? Can you help me get out of here?"

Gerard clenched his fists. How could this be? How could he be here?

_'Couldn't be...'_

"You came for me," Gerard whimpered. "_You came..._"

There was a stunned silence, as Frank Iero watched him closely, obviously bewildered by his response.

"Stand up," Frank replied; "And turn around and look at me."

Party Poison didn't move at once. He tried, but found that all of his limbs were trapped in place, and not obeying him. He actually felt that any sudden movements would result in him fainting, or throwing up all over the ground. Slowly and carefully, he lifted his head slightly, not daring to look directly at the man standing a few feet away from him in case his deepest fears were realised, and this precious moment proved to be just a figment of his imagination. Was it the drugs? Were BL/I showing him exactly what he wanted to see?

Was this yet another lie?

"I asked you a question," the man said, much more impatiently. "Who are you? Why are you here?"

Gerard whimpered, grabbing for the wall to support him in case he collapsed. There was no mistake. This wasn't any hallucination, and some how, some way, he _knew_. This was real. And Gerard knew exactly who was standing so close to him. The one person he had longed to see more than any other since he had awakened. Although his head was telling him that it couldn't be, his heart knew the truth.

He was really there.

Gerard turned his head slightly, and watched as the other man gazed at him, his face showing a mixture of disbelief, pain, despair, jubilation, and then finally – anger.

"No," he muttered, at last, backing away slightly but keeping his blue ray gun trained expertly on Gerard. "It's impossible. It can't be you."

Gerard, fighting the urge to break down where he was crouching, reached out with one shaky hand, and managed one whispered word, his voice trembling with barely contained emotion:

"Frankie?"

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi all! So, here you go, early Christmas present! This will probably be my last update before the New Year so I'll say now: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!  
**

**Usual warnings apply!  
**

**Thanks for all the reviews and comments, as always!  
**

**~x~  
**

**Purifying Flame**

**Chapter Seven**

Frank was moving slowly, feeling his way along the corridor, ready and alert with his gun raised. He let out a deep breath, not even realising he'd been holding it in for some time. He didn't know where he was going, or even what the plan was. Well, the plan was to stay alive, and make sure Luka hadn't died for nothing. Grief seized him once again when he thought of the friend he'd left behind. He knew it wouldn't be long before Luka was discovered, and an alarm would be raised. Once that happened, Frank was very aware that his game would be up. All he could hope was that he came across an exit, or better still Billie Joe and Mike, before that inevitability occurred.

He was making progress, he was sure of it. Why did every corridor, every wall, in this fucking place have to look exactly the same? Lost in a building like the one he had found himself in was like being lost in a maze. A feeling of helplessness was building inside of Frank, threatening to take over. He was all alone, surrounded by numerous foes that would be happy to shoot him on sight. It wasn't the fear of death that was bothering Frank in that moment, it was that sense of loneliness.

Frank didn't want to be on his own any more.

He edged forward a few more steps, and then paused, listening intently. He pressed his ear against the wall, confused. He could hear a noise, sounding like thudding and scuffling, and then someone moaning in pain. He grimaced when he heard what sounded like punches, and gasps for breath. Someone was being beaten behind the wall, someone was in serious trouble.

Frank hesitated for a moment, unsure what to do. His common sense was telling him that whatever was happening was none of his business. If he got involved, he could well be throwing away any chance he had of escaping. But Frank knew he had to ignore common sense. Someone needed help, someone innocent for all he knew. He'd already figured out that he was in some kind of correctional facility. How could he live with himself if he just walked away? What if it was Billie, or Mike? Or even Ray? Any of them could have been captured. He would not leave them to be tortured.

Hell, he wouldn't stand by and allow anybody to be tortured.

_Never again._

Frank heard a voice then, too muffled and soft for him to understand. One thing he was sure of though, a person was really suffering, very close to him. He felt along the wall quickly, trying to find a gap or something similar, a way for him to gain entry. He blinked when his fingers found a small button and he pressed it. He then managed to catch himself before he fell forward as, to his astonishment, the wall he was leaning against vanished. It made no sound, it simply disappeared. Frank quickly realised that what he had assumed was a "wall" was in fact a doorway, which Frank discovered led to a tiny room. A hiding place, perhaps? A hidey-hole, should the City ever come under attack? As Frank's eyes became accustomed to the darkness, his gaze fixed on the shocking sight that was right in front of him, and he baulked in surprise. A Scarecrow, without his mask, was on top of a cowering figure in a hospital gown, hissing into the other man's ear. Neither of them seemed aware of the newcomer's presence. Frank took a step forward; gun raised, and then glanced over his shoulder to see that the "wall" had once again appeared, trapping them all inside. Turning his attention back to the fight being played out mere feet away from him, he could see that the victim was attempting to defend himself but Frank could see that the Scarecrow was winning the battle, having overpowered and was throttling the life out of him. The patient's fight was leaving him and the Crow knew it, judging by his triumphant body language. As Frank watched, the man forced his gun against his victim's eye, and clearly prepared to fire. Frank was going to watch a man being murdered in cold blood, right in front of him.

No. He wasn't.

He made his mind up instantly. Aiming his gun, he fired twice, both shots hitting the mark, striking the Scarecrow in the back, and the blast did it's deadly work, stopping the man's heart. Seconds passed, and Frank held his breath as he watched the doomed man collapse to the ground and lay there, beside his now gasping victim. His body spasmed once, as the life left him, and then he lay, completely still. It was done.

Frank paused for a moment, eyeing the pitiful figure slumped by the wall. He frowned, wondering what this man had done to receive such punishment? Probably not much, Frank reasoned.

He approached the other man uncertainly, his gun raised and ready.

"Citizen," he said, "Are you okay?" Frank stopped, keeping his distance and tilted his head slightly, "Are you a prisoner here?"

The prisoner didn't answer him.

Frank tried again. "Don't be scared," he told him, in what he hoped were more gentle tones. "I won't hurt you."

The other man lifted his head slightly, but didn't look at Frank.

"What's your name?" Frank urged. "I'm Ghoul..."

At that, the beaten man gave a very peculiar response. He began to shake his head firmly, and even muttered under his breath. He still wouldn't turn to look at Frank, and the brunette's patience was wearing very thin.

He took another step forward. "I asked you," he snapped. "Are you being kept prisoner here? This is the Detention Centre, isn't it? Do you know the way out of here?"

The prisoner's whole body language was intriguing. He seemed so tense, so shocked by what Frank was saying. Frank could see that his fists were clenched and he appeared to be very agitated.

Then, at long last, he replied, at a mere whimper. "You came for me. You came." The other man's voice actually broke as he spoke.

Frank was utterly confused. He waved his gun, at the other man, forcing his voice to remain stern.

"Stand up," he told him. "And turn around and look at me." When the other man didn't respond, instead choosing once more to simply stare at the wall, Frank finally lost all patience. "I asked you a question, dammit! Who are you? Why are you here?"

He heard the man whimper again as he hesitated to obey. Finally, very slowly and carefully, he turned his head slightly and looked directly at Frank.

Frank gaped at the crouching man for a moment, trying to understand what was right before his eyes. He took a step back, and bought a shaky hand up to his mouth. Tears sprang to his eyes and he fought to keep them at bay. He was experiencing so many emotions at once, as he stared stupidly at the man who was watching him so closely.

As disbelief hit him like a brick, he shook his head, and then the feeling of shock and panic was replaced by something much more known to him. Anger. Pure unadulterated fury.

How dare they?

"No," Frank snapped, his ray gun aimed, his finger covering the trigger, ready to put a stop to this madness before it had even begun. "It's impossible. It can't be you."

And then, as Frank watched, the other man held out a hand, as if he was reaching out for Frank, wanting him closer.

The thing that looked like Gerard Way managed one trembling word.

_"Frankie?"_

There was a very uncomfortable pause as both men gazed at each other. Frank recovered first, actually twisting his face into a nasty smile.

"Good try," he whispered. "That's very impressive. Almost spot on."

"Frank-" Gerard whimpered, still trying to force himself up off of the ground.

"It's a shame," Frank continued, in a voice dripping with sarcasm; "That BL/I didn't do their research properly. I know that you're not Gerard because _I_ watched Gerard die!"

Gerard moaned, and shook his head.

Frank chuckled. "Sucks to be you, fucker." There was a frightening insanity about Frank now. Gerard knew he was hanging on by a thread, pushed to the edge by the sight of the lover he had had to watch die. He even felt scared by this unhinged Frank, knew he had to make his lover understand, before this all ended very badly for them all.

"It is me, Frank." Gerard whispered. "Please-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Frank spat, surging forward, only stopping mere inches from Gerard, causing the other man to flinch, expecting a blow. "Gerard didn't just die in my arms. I killed him. I ripped your fucking shit machine off of his head and then I watched him die. He stopped breathing in my arms and now his fucking murderers have the fucking nerve to create some kind of filthy _clone_?"

"Frank," Gerard babbled, desperately. "I'm not a clone-"

"I fucking told you to shut up!" Gerard suddenly found himself roughly dragged to his feet and thrown back against the wall, with a gun being held painfully against his neck. He grunted from the cruel treatment, having already endured the painful beating from the Drac. Frank seemed nonplussed by his misery, and that hurt him more than the actual pain. "You tell me who you are right now," the other man snarled into his face; "Or I swear to God that I will blow you away."

"Don't make the biggest mistake of your life, Frank." Gerard said, holding his hands up, trying to stay calm. He was also in agony, thanks to the beating the Draculoid dished out to him, and the tightness of Frank's grip. "They told me you were dead too, and I believed them! But I know that it's you. Can't you look at me, really look, and sense the same? You're better than this, Frank."

Frank let out a strangled sob, his gun hand trembling. "Just stop," he whispered. "You are _not_ him."

Gerard sighed. "Look, what is it going to take for you to believe me?" He gestured in desperate frustration. "Ask me a question. Any question you want."

Frank eyed him, letting out an almost crazed laugh. "Do you think I'm stupid?" He retorted.

"What?"

The brunette tightened his hold on his gun. "Back in that room, before that machine killed the real Gerard, it wiped his mind. You think I can't fucking work it out for myself that the BL/I scum would give their sick clone all the memories that they stole?" He leaned in closer. "I told you already. If those bastards want to send a clone to mess with our minds, maybe they shouldn't have chosen the guy that _watched Gerard Way die_!"

Gerard flinched. "You're hurting me, Frankie," he whispered. "Please let go of me."

Frank paused for a moment, fighting to keep his expression neutral, clearly affected by the sadness in the other man's voice, but he didn't release his punishing hold. "You're good," he whispered; "I'll give you that. But you're not him. You can't be. He's dead." He shook his head, muttering his mantra repeatedly under his breath. "He's gone. No coming back. He's gone."

"What can I do, Frank?" Gerard beseeched, his voice breaking. He couldn't deal with this any more. There was finality to his tone "It's your choice! Either kill me, or just tell me what it will take to convince you that I'm me?"

Frank bit his lip, taking a moment to compose himself, watching Gerard so closely that the other man trembled under his glare.

Finally, Frank whispered one barely audible word: "_Sing._"

Gerard stared at Frank. He didn't know what he'd expected him to say, but it certainly wasn't that. In the middle of Better Living's City, in a Detention Centre, outnumbered by thousands to two, did Frank really expect him to stand there and fucking sing?

"Frank-" Gerard began.

"What are you waiting for? Do it. Sing me a song." His eyes blazed. "One of _our_ songs."

Gerard blinked. Singing was exactly what Frank expected him to do. Poison took in his former lover's desperate look and knew that Frank didn't just expect this, he _needed _it.

The former singer took a deep breath. "I can't stand here and sing to you, Frank," Gerard said, calmly and patiently. "We're in the fucking lions den and we need to get out of here or we will both get caught-"

Gerard stopped speaking abruptly when Frank pressed the gun right into his flesh, causing him to gasp in pain. "Do it," he urged him. "Now."

Again, Gerard hesitated. This time, Frank narrowed his eyes, and his finger covered the trigger.

He put his lips against Gerard's ear, and hissed to him. "BL/I might think they've done a great job with you. You're the perfect copy, right? You can stand like Gerard, walk like him. Even talk like him." He recoiled slightly, but didn't relieve the pressure of his gun, pressing in to Gerard's neck. "But do you know what? You wouldn't be able to sing like him. No one could."

Gerard couldn't help but whimper. "For fucks sake, Frank-"

"SING!" Frank shouted into his face, not caring that any passing Draculoid could not have failed to hear him. "No more words. _Just... fucking... sing..._"

There was a moment when both men just stared at each other, each one trying to figure out the other. Frank couldn't get that image of Gerard taking his last breath in his arms, couldn't get past the fact that he watched his lover die, where as Gerard knew hope was fading fast that Frank would simply have a change of heart and believe him, believe his eyes.

There was no other choice.

"I'm a little rusty," he whispered. "Lack of practice..."

Frank didn't respond. He just waited.

Gerard closed his eyes fleetingly, desperately trying to remember the lyrics to a certain song, a song he knew meant a lot to Frank, a song he hoped would persuade Frank that this was real, that _he_ was real.

He opened his eyes again, and cleared his throat. And then, with Frank's harsh stare boring into him, Gerard began to sing:

"_As lead rains, will pass on through our phantom, forever, forever."_

Frank let out a low gasp, his eyes widening. Gerard fought to keep his voice steady as he sang on.

"_Like scarecrows that fuel this flame we're burning, forever, and ever."_

Any colour remaining had drained from Frank, who was now shaking his head, evidently using all of his will power to stay on his feet.

"_Know how much I want to show you you're the only one..."_

Silent tears were streaming down Frank's face now, as he covered his mouth with his left hand, and closed his eyes, his gun still pushed up against Gerard. The other man took hold of the weapon as he sang on, gently lowering it.

"_Like a bed of roses there's a dozen reasons in this gun..." _

That was when Frank noticed for the first time that Gerard was crying too.

"_And as we're falling down, and in this pool of blood..."_

Frank's shaky hand was reaching out slowly for Gerard's, and he reached out with his own, their fingers gently touching.

"_And as we're touching hands..."_

"Gerard..." Frank whimpered his name. "Oh God, Gerard..."

Gerard stopped singing, wrapping his arms around the smaller man instead and holding him close. He buried his face into Frank's hair, and just held him, as Frank sobbed openly in his arms.

"It is you," Frank whimpered brokenly. "You're really here."

"Yeah," Gerard breathed. "I'm right here."

And then, Frank began to struggle, forcing his way out of Gerard's embrace. "You... you..." He managed, still between sobs. "You left me..." He actually hit Gerard, the weak punch catching the other man squarely on his chest, followed up by another. "You left me there alone..."

Gerard closed his eyes tightly, his own face wet from tears, as he took the hits, not trying to defend himself. "I'm sorry, baby." He moaned. "I'm so sorry."

Frank covered his face with his hands then, turning away from Gerard, sobs still wrecking his body. "You made me..." He gasped. "You made me fucking kill you, Gerard! Do you have any-" He broke off, taking a few seconds to compose himself, and then turned his tear streaked face round to meet Gerard's. "How could you do that to me?"

Gerard had no answer. All he could do was stare stupidly at Frank.

What could he say?

"_That's a good question, Gerard."_

Both men were startled, and whirled around, to find St Jimmy standing in the corridor, along with a patrol of Draculoids. Just like Frank before him, it seemed Jimmy had activated the doorway without alerting the room's occupants. Jimmy was smirking at Gerard, who had instinctively moved closer to Frank. "Are you going to answer the man, or keep us in suspense?" He shrugged. "We all know how you like to dodge important questions..."

Gerard glared hatefully at him, while Frank threw his former leader a confused glance.

"Where did you think you were going, Gerard?" The Exterminator scolded.

"Away from you."

Jimmy laughed. "Good job, Poison." His gaze flickered to Frank, and he chuckled. "And you've bought me a present, I see?"

Gerard instantly moved in front of his boyfriend. "Don't you go near him! You fucking hear me?"

Frank was evidently surprised by the sudden fury in Gerard's tone, and he eyed Jimmy suspiciously.

Jimmy returned the look for a moment, and then shook his head and smiled. "Tell you what, why don't we do a straight swap?" He gestured with his left hand, and two more Draculoids came into Gerard and Frank's line of vision, pulling a struggling Bob along with them. "I understand this belongs to you?"

"Bob!" Frank exclaimed, taking a step forward.

The former drummer gaped at Frank, and then his face broke into a big smile. "Another 'dead' Killjoy! Do all of you guys have nine lives or something?" He moved closer, but was dragged back by his masked captors. "How's it going, Frankie?"

"Been better."

"I hear ya."

Gerard was regarding Bob closely. "You okay?" He asked, quietly.

"Never better," Bob replied, and gave the other man a reassuring smile. Gerard was satisfied.

"Enough!" Jimmy snapped, his face flaming. He didn't like not being involved and, right then, they were ignoring him. "Sorry to interrupt this heart warming reunion, but we've got important business to discuss."

"Why don't you-" Bob began but was quickly cut off when a shot ran out, striking him in the chest, and instantly sending him tumbling to the ground.

Frank and Gerard surged toward Bob at once, but were immediately held back by Draculoids, who jumped forward to restrain them.

"He's just stunned," Jimmy snapped, distractedly. "He'll be fine." He gestured to two of the nearby Draculoids. "Take the spy to a cell on the seventh floor. Report back to me when you're done." As the two drones pulled Bob up and departed with him, Jimmy turned back to the remaining rebels. "I just didn't need any more of his wise-ass remarks. I've had it with others sticking their unwanted noses where they don't belong." He rubbed at the back of his neck. "He was in your band, wasn't he?"

Frank glowered at Jimmy, and glanced across at Gerard.

Gerard could read his look perfectly.

_'Who the fuck is this guy and how the fuck does he know so much about us?'_

Gerard could only offer Frank an apologetic look. He had no answers for him right at that moment. Instead, he responded angrily to Jimmy.

"That's right," he fumed. "He's our friend, and I don't take kindly to my friends being-"

"Get off of your high horse, Gerard!" Jimmy interrupted. "I don't have any issues with your friend. He'll not be harmed..."

Gerard glared. "And what about the Draculoid that tried to kill me?" He clenched his fists. "Was that planned?"

There was a brief pause before Jimmy answered him. "Obviously that was an unforeseen circumstance. It was regrettable."

"Regrettable?" Gerard repeated, his eyebrow raised. "Slight understatement?"

Jimmy rolled his eyes. "It's not my fucking fault you've pissed off a lot of people, Killjoy."

Gerard scowled. "If it weren't for Frank-"

"Ah yes. Frank," Jimmy mused, turning his full attention to the dark haired Killjoy. "I thought you were dead. I'm glad to see I was told wrong information-"

"Don't you go near him!" Gerard snarled, trying to move ahead of Frank but unable to get free. "Stay the fuck-"

Jimmy smirked. "Jealous, Cherry?" He mocked, dismissing the fuming Gerard with a toss of his head, and then moving to stand directly in front of Frank, peering into his face closely. "It's good to see you again," he told the other man, softly. "You left an impression, Frank Iero."

Frank gazed back, furrowing his brow in confusion. "Who are you?" He enquired, uncertainly

Jimmy smiled.

Gerard, now being held back by three Draculoids, was seething. "I told you to stay away from him, you bastard!"

The Exterminator laughed at that. "Do I look like a guy who does as he's told, Gerard?"

"You look like a fucking ass!"

Jimmy raised an eyebrow, and then tilted his head to Frank. "And you love this guy? You could do so much better, Fun Ghoul." He leant in closer to the confused Killjoy. "You could have had me."

Frank stared at Jimmy, evidently trying to figure the clearly insane guy out. Frank was certain he'd never seen the man before, but could also tell that Gerard not only knew exactly who he was, he also despised him

"I don't know you." Frank whispered, not able to take his eyes off of the ugly scar running down the man's face.

Jimmy frowned, and then sighed. "I know. And that's a real fucking pity, trust me. We shared a lot, Frank. You and me. I wish I could let you remember..."

"Don't you fucking dare, Jimmy!" Gerard shouted, straining against the two drones holding him. "You hear me?"

Jimmy ignored the fuming Killjoy leader. Instead, he reached out, and gently caressed Frank's cheek with his thumb and forefinger.

"What about it, Frank? What if I gave you back the memories I stole?"

Frank glanced at Gerard, who shook his head at his boyfriend furiously, which caused the brunette to back away quickly from the smirking Exterminator. "No thanks," he replied quietly. "I'm good."

Jimmy glowered at the smaller man, and then turned to fix Gerard with a cold stare.

Gerard smiled back at him.

Jimmy's lips twitched. "He's your faithful dog, isn't he?"

"Fuck you."

The Exterminator smirked, and then turned his attention back to Frank, who was eyeing him uncomfortably. Jimmy leaned in closer, and whispered in the other man's ear: "A man is no more than the sum of his parts, Frankie." He shook his head disappointedly. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that? Without all of your memories, you're incomplete."

"I'll take my chances," Frank breathed.

Jimmy stood back, and let out a low sigh. "If that's what you want, pup;" he hissed. Turning his back on Frank, he quickly marched over to Gerard, his anger forcing its way to the surface, and actually grabbing the other man by his throat, snarling in his face.

"Think you're clever, don't you?" Jimmy threw at him, as Gerard gasped desperately for breath. "Think you're in control here? Well, guess what, Cherry? This is _my_ City, _my_ rules." He ground his teeth, as Gerard squirmed in his grip. "Maybe Korse had the right idea with you," he taunted, smirking as Gerard whimpered softly "Maybe I should pin you against this wall, and fuck your ass so hard you'll never be able to fucking walk properly ever again..."

"STOP IT!" Frank screamed, racing forward, desperate to try and force Jimmy away from Gerard. He never got to the Exterminator though, finding himself restrained after taking three steps. He grimaced, trying to pull free of the drones, but they held him too tightly. All he could do was plead with the peculiar man he couldn't remember ever meeting. The man who seemed to know him only to well. "Please," he moaned. "Please let him go!"

Just at that moment, a Draculoid appeared behind Frank and spoke up, in it's monotone voice:

"Excuse me, Sir. A body of a rebel has been found in the Detention Centre, not far from our current location."

Jimmy smirked, and then tightened his hold on Gerard. "Who is that then?" He spat.

Gerard said nothing. It was all he could do to stay conscious.

Frank pressed forward again. "He was with me! It was just the two of us. Please, stop!"

Jimmy paused, glancing over his shoulder at Frank, eyeing the distressed man curiously. Finally, he released Gerard, and then nodded to the guards, who allowed the coughing man to falls to his knees, where he slumped down, trying to regain his breath.

"Who?" Gerard moaned. It took all of them a few seconds to realise that he was addressing Frank.

"Luka," Frank replied. At Gerard's confused look, the younger Killjoy frowned at added; "Gareth's friend. You remember Gareth. Bert killed him."

Gerard did remember. He bowed his head.

"Another life lost thanks to us," Frank said, quietly.

Gerard closed his eyes.

"How many more have to die before you rebels are satisfied?" Jimmy muttered. He faced Gerard once more. "Where's the weapon, Gerard?"

The other man gestured helplessly.

Jimmy frowned, and then crouched down beside the whimpering man, who was still holding his neck, now painfully red. "If you don't tell me, Poison, I'll be forced to do something neither of us want to see happen. So, I'll ask you again. Where is the weapon?"

"I don't know..." Gerard managed, his voice raspy.

"Your choice," Jimmy snapped, and then he was back on his feet and he swung round, indicating to the two Draculoids holding Frank.

"Kill him."

"NO!" Gerard forced himself to his knees, and grabbed for Jimmy. "Don't!"

"The weapon?"

"I've told you over and over! I don't know anything about any weapon!"

"You think I want to hurt Frank?" Jimmy spat. "You think I don't know he's innocent in this? But you are not leaving me any fucking choice! If I don't go back to my superiors with some news, they'll kill Frank, you and me and probably anybody else out in the fucking Zones! Now do you get it? If that weapon is used, lots of people are going to die. People I've sworn to protect! If you don't tell me, this company will protect itself and destroy you fucking rebels first and never mind whoever gets in the fucking way!" He waved furiously. "Now do you see what I'm dealing with? I need you to tell me the truth!"

"I don't know!" Gerard cried. "For fucks sake, I don't know!"

"You're Party Poison!" Jimmy threw back. "You're Death Defying's right hand man! Don't take me for a fool!" He gestured to the guards holding Frank. "I don't want to do this but it's the only way to get through to you apparently so;" he closed his eyes, before adding: "Beat him to death."

Gerard could only scream his fury as Frank was punched to the ground. Jimmy stood back, facing Gerard, not watching the brutal beating that was being carried out at his orders.

"Stop them!" Gerard pleaded.

"You can stop them," Jimmy retorted; "By telling me the truth."

"Please!" Gerard tried again, brokenly, cringing when he heard Frank shout out. "Don't do this. They'll kill him."

"That's the idea."

"I don't know about any weapon," he whimpered, trying to get to Frank, who was now crying out at each kick and punch, but finding Jimmy blocking his path. "Please..."

"Tell me!"

"I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!"

They were so caught up in each other and the attack on Frank, neither man saw or heard the other suddenly moving to stand close by, in the same corridor. They both jumped, startled, when a new voice filled the space:

"_He's telling you the truth, Jimmy."_

Gerard and Jimmy whirled around, but staring in shock at the newcomer. Frank's suffering was also abruptly halted, at a gesture from Jimmy, and he lay on the ground, his body trembling from the abuse he'd been put through. Gerard pushed the stunned Jimmy out of the way, and rushed to Frank's side, holding him in his arms, and immediately beginning to tend to his injuries.

As one, the two men turned to gape at the man who had saved them both, the man St Jimmy was gazing at, with a mixture of hate, disbelief and awe.

Billie Joe glared back, casting a curious glance at Frank, and then double taking when his gaze focused on Gerard.

"Gerard," Billie said. "Thought you were dead. Glad I was wrong."

"Good to see you too, Billie." Gerard replied, with a small smile. "Very timely. Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Billie Joe's gaze fell back on Jimmy, and he frowned at the other man, and clenched his fists. Jimmy stared back, looking Billie up and down, a cold smile appearing on his lips.

"Billie Joe Armstrong," Jimmy said, so softly. "Been a fucking long time."

"Thought _you_ were dead as well, Jimmy. Y'know, I'm pleased to see I was wrong about that too. Nice scar, by the way. Wanna tell me what the fuck you think you're doing in a BL/Ind. uniform?"

There was a deathly silence, and then Jimmy threw back his head and laughed manically. The sound ripped through Billie, and he paled, waiting for the other man to calm down. Finally, he did.

"You've got a nerve, making out you're glad I'm alive?" Jimmy chuckled. "After you left me for dead?" He tapped his cheek. "And as for this 'nice' scar, I'm glad you like it. After all, you caused it."

Billie blinked and suddenly, he didn't look so cocksure. "Jimmy, look, I-"

Jimmy held up his hand quickly. "Now is not the time for your excuses and lies, Billie Joe. I have questions and I need answers, and quickly. First things first, where's your shadow?"

Billie bristled slightly. "My what?"

"The third member of your little band." He smiled coldly. "The one who is still alive…"

"I'm alone."

"Like fuck you are!" Jimmy turned and called out loudly. "Come on out, Mike. Or do I have to start shooting people?"

There was a pause, before another figure stepped into the room, moving to stand behind Billie. Mike's eyes swept over Frank, before widening when he saw Gerard, before finally settling on Jimmy, a frown forming on his face. He gripped Billie's shoulder supportively, the other man visibly relaxing from the contact.

Jimmy's eyes blazed. "There we go! The gangs all here now. Well, except for Tre of course. So tragic what happened to him-"

Mike took a trembling step forward but Billie grabbed his arm, preventing him from springing on Jimmy. Instead, very calmly, he addressed his old friend.

"What do you want, Jimmy?"

Jimmy smirked. "I want you to tell me the truth, Billie Joe. Do you know about a weapon hidden by your Broadcaster, the one known as Death Defying?"

"A weapon?" Billie repeated.

Jimmy clenched his fists. "For your friends sake, you better have a good think. We've been told you rebel rats found a weapon, out in the Zones, and decided to keep it, to use it in the future against the Company." Jimmy's lips twitched when he saw how nervous Billie had become. "Does this ring any fucking bells with you at all, Armstrong?"

Billie glanced quickly at Mike, and then replied, very quietly; "Yes, it does."

Jimmy smiled widely. Everyone's attention was now focused solely on Billie Joe.

"So?" Jimmy snapped, and gestured at Billie to proceed. "Share!"

Billie shook his head stubbornly.

"I will tell you what you want to know, but only if you leave the others alone."

Jimmy raised an eyebrow.

"You'll tell me the God's honest truth? Just like that?"

"If you don't hurt the others, yes." Billie bowed his head. "Just leave them alone."

There was a pause as Jimmy considered Billie's offer. Finally, he managed a small smile. "Fine." He moved to stand beside Billie, placing a possessive arm around his shoulders. "Let's go talk somewhere comfortable-"

Mike couldn't keep quiet. "Billie, you can't trust him-"

"Who asked you?" Jimmy was watching Mike with pure dislike as Billie's best friend was pulled away from Billie Joe by two of his drones, desperately trying to get back to Billie, and then, he smiled spitefully. "You know, I'd love for you guys to see more of what this amazing facility has to offer, while you're here..." Gesturing to his drones, Jimmy barked; "Take the rebel known as Mike and put him in the same cell as the spy. The Killjoys can rest in cell Twenty on the same floor for now. We'll discuss release again once I have full information, and the location, of the weapon." He leered at Billie Joe. "It's up to Armstrong here, basically. He lets you down, you die."

Jimmy's gaze focused on Frank once more. The Killjoy had to look away. Gerard saw his friend's discomfort, and took Frank's hand. He then threw Jimmy a hateful glare.

Jimmy, noting all of this, smirked. "Cute," he spat. He then waved his hand.

"Take them away."

As the rebels were manhandled out into the corridor and away, Billie Joe glanced over at Jimmy, who was not returning his gaze, instead choosing to watch the others leave.

"Jimmy," Billie said quietly. "Please-"

With an angry growl, Jimmy took hold of Billie's arm in a punishing grip. "Do yourself a favour, Billie Joe;" He spat. "And keep your fucking mouth shut unless I tell you otherwise."

And with that, he began to drag Billie along, with the remaining Draculoids falling into step behind them.

Billie couldn't help himself. In a small voice, he added: "You promised me you wouldn't hurt them, Jimmy-"

Jimmy laughed coldly. "You never listen, do you?" He tightened his hold, causing the other man to gasp in pain, as he pulled Billie along by his arm. "And you don't have any fucking right to ask anything of me," he added, with a snarl. "You little bastard."

Gerard and Frank was escorted down to the escalators, and then frogmarched down three corridors before they arrived at their cell. Their captors had not spoken, merely pushed them into their cell, and then left to their own devices. They had both stood in there for a few moments, facing each other, each man trying to figure out exactly what had happened, how they had ended up in that room, at that moment, together. Neither man could truly believe what had happened, that the other was even alive.

Gerard recovered enough first to finally turn away from Frank, and begin to pace up and down the tiny room, cursing and swearing to himself. Finally, his anger boiled over, and he slammed his fist into the cell door.

Frank grimaced. "You should rest," he told his companion. "You took quite a beating from that Drac-"

"I'm fine."

"Gerard-"

"Frank, I said I'm okay!" He glared over at his fellow Killjoy. _"Okay?"_

Frank let out a low sigh. "Sure," he replied, accepting defeat.

"If they've hurt Mike or Bob..." Gerard began, and then this time kicked at the door. "After what these bastards did to Ray and Mikey, I swear to God that I am going to make them-"

"Ray?" Frank questioned, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Gerard turned and glanced at him. "They told me, that Mikey killed Ray..." Gerard couldn't finish the sentence. He shook his head, and then quickly looked away.

Frank was trembling slightly. Of course, Gerard didn't know. That man, whoever he was, had lied for his own purposes.

"You should know, Gee;" Frank said quietly, with a little knowing smile, "Ray is alive, and as fucking awesome as ever."

Gerard turned his head quickly. "What?"

"Yeah," Frank continued. "He was part of the rescue mission." He glanced down. "We came here for Mikey."

Gerard's face broke into a big, true smile of relief and happiness.

"They told me Ray was dead," he mused, as he continued to pace the room. "Just like they said you were, and Mikey as well. If they lied about you, and about Ray;" He looked down quickly; "Well, maybe they lied about Mikey too..." His voice broke as he spoke. It was almost too much for him to dare hope. All four of them, together again? That seemed like a dream. "They told me he was killed after killing the Co-rdinator-"

Frank looked up sharply. "Mikey killed the Head Bitch?"

"So Jimmy told me."

"Good for fucking Mikey," Frank exclaimed. His gaze met Gerard's. "If Mikey _is_ still alive," Frank said, softly; "Then we'll find him, Gee." The brunette quickly cut the space between himself and Gerard in two small steps, and then awkwardly put his hand on Gerard's shoulder, patting him, in a small show of support.

It was enough for Gerard.

It was simply instinct to him, a desire that he couldn't prevent. Having Frank that close to him after he'd believed he had lost him forever was sending a wave of need to Gerard's very core and, without thinking, he leaned closer, and placed his lips against the other man's, kissing him gently.

He heard Frank make a growled noise of displeasure and he stopped, unsure.

And then Gerard found himself being shoved away from his lover, none to gently.

The Killjoy leader pulled back, meeting Frank's gaze, and then actually recoiled from what he saw.

Frank was staring at him with wide, anger filled, eyes.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm sorry," Gerard said, at once.

Frank backed away quickly. "You think it's as simple as that, Gerard? You reappear, and we make out, like nothing happened?"

Gerard glanced down. "I didn't mean-"

Frank cut across him. "You gave up, Gerard. You left me. I've been to hell and back since then and you think a kiss makes all of that better? Well, it doesn't."

The other man gave him a cold stare. "Look around you, Frank. Does this place look like a vacation to you?"

"You gave up!" Frank exclaimed. "You ended up here because you didn't want to fight any more. Fair enough, but don't expect things to be how they were before. You made me end your life, Gee. Not you, not Korse, not Mikey or Ray. Me. I've had to live with that guilt. How do you think that made me feel? I loved you so much that I did what you wanted, and it nearly destroyed me." He leaned in closer. "You did that to me. No one else. Just you."

Gerard swallowed, and then looked away. "I'm sorry."

Frank let out a weary sigh, and fell backwards on to the bed. "All I'm saying, Gerard, is that this is going to take me some time." He covered his eyes with his hand. "I thought you were dead. You were dead. I feel like my mind's blown." He moved his hand, turned his head, and stared at Gerard. "Why are you back? Why now? Why do you always have to be so fucking surprising!"

Gerard was glaring daggers at Frank.

"Sorry I disappointed you. I'll try to stay dead next time. Is that better?"

"Oh Gerard," Frank sighed; "That's not what I meant-"

"Well, what did you mean then?" Gerard retorted, suddenly very red in the face.

"Oh for fucks sake," Frank snapped. "My boyfriend just came back from the dead. I have no idea what I'm saying-"

Gerard glowered at him. "Yeah? Well, that's weird, Frank." His tone was laced with heavy sarcasm. "You certainly seem like you've got plenty of nothing to say!"

Frank did not appreciate that comment. He rounded on Gerard. "Do you think this is easy?"

"It's not a fucking picnic for me, you know, _Frank_!"

"Of course I know that! I can't help it if I can't find the right words, _Gerard_!"

"Maybe you shouldn't say anything then!"

Frank turned his back on him, and crossed his arms over his chest. "Fine, lets just sit in silence then!"

Gerard slumped down on the floor, his back leaning against the wall. "Fine then!" He didn't look in Frank's direction, but merely gazed into space instead.

Neither man said another word.

XXX

Jimmy leaned back in his seat, a knowing smirk on his lips. He had enjoyed Gerard and Frank's argument immensely. Frank was not disappointing him. He had known from his previous meeting with the Killjoy that he was a strong character. Gerard didn't deserve him. He smiled when the surveillance camera went in close up on Frank's perfect face. Very carefully, Jimmy leaned forward, and gently stroked the screen.

How he would love to touch Frank Iero again. Perhaps, in time, there would be opportunities for some entertainment with his captives but first, he had more pressing matters to be concerned with. He touched a button on his control panel, switching the screen off, and then turned to face Billie, who was sat on the floor, staring back at the Exterminator with wide eyes.

As Jimmy watched the former lead singer, he was transported through time, back to that day, the day everything had changed for him.

The day Billie Joe Armstrong had shown his true colours, and had turned from hero to villain for Jimmy.

The day Exterminator Saint had been born.

Jimmy closed his eyes, and he was back there. Back in that prison, in the cell, being tortured by Korse for information on the Killjoys, on the Doc, Billie, anybody. Information he was not willing to give up. So, he had sat there, facing whatever he was put through with a stubborn smirk, and finally, that fateful day, Billie Joe had come for him.

They'd nearly made it. They had been so close...

_They ran for the exit, Jimmy stumbling along, Billie practically dragging him onward. Ray gun blasts were all around them, missing them by mere inches and, with a quick glance to his left, Jimmy saw that other rebels and prisoners were making their escapes, all supporting each other. This was a good raid, Jimmy could tell that. A lot of lives were in the process of being saved. Jimmy didn't want to look at the broken bodies at his feet, the unlucky ones who had been hit as they had tried to flee. The yells of "Stop! Stay where you are!" was getting louder. Jimmy stole a look over his shoulder and his eyes widened when he saw just how many Draculoids were giving chase. If they caught them, they would be finished, all three of them. And Jimmy knew only to well what that would mean for Billie. He was marked for level one Extermination after all, just like the Killjoys. They would question him, and then simply reprogramme or kill him._

_Jimmy would not let that happen. Billie was risking his own life to save Jimmy's._

_The young man felt his heart swell in his chest. He wasn't useless after all._

"_Billie," he gasped. "If they catch you-"_

"_Shut up, Jimmy, and fucking run." Billie snarled._

"_It hurts," he moaned. "Leave me."_

_Billie tightened his hold. "Y'know what, that ain't happening, so just shut the hell up and fucking RUN!"_

_Jimmy was limping, moaning softly, as he was pulled along, Billie Joe at his side, Tre behind them, covering them. Every step was an effort thanks to the torture he had endured, but then he heard Billie shout, excitedly, and he knew his suffering was nearly at an end._

"_Come on, Jimmy!" Billie called, pulling harder on his arm. "We're nearly there-"_

_The explosion came from behind them. They never saw it coming. One second, he could feel Billie beside him, supporting him, urging him on, as the two of them made for freedom, and then, he was gone._

_The force of the blast picked Jimmy up and sent him flying through the air. He could feel the heat, the fire, burning his flesh and he screamed in pure terror. He had a split second to think as he felt himself falling, and his thoughts were for Billie Joe, and for Frank, and for what might have been._

_He hit the ground with a harsh thud, his hands held out in front of him, hoping to ease his landing. He lay there, gasping, whimpering. He tried to look to his left, expecting to see Billie in equal discomfort beside him but there was no sign of his rescuer. _

"_Bill-" He began but the words caught in his throat. _

_Oh God, it hurt. It was hot, so very hot, and everything was burning, and everything was red, and it hurt and Billie wasn't there and he was scared and please someone help him, come and stop the pain._

_Was he on fire? Was this dying?_

_Jimmy tried to cry out, but no sound came. For a crazy moment, he thought he saw Billie through the smoke, apparently rushing toward him but in the next second, the billowing smoke was all around him, consuming him, and Billie was gone. Jimmy wondered if his mind was playing tricks on him, showing him what he wanted to see._

_Maybe Billie was never there at all. _

_What if he was lying near by, dead or dying?_

_The blackness surrounded Jimmy, and no longer able to fight against the inevitable peace, he welcomed it gladly. With a sigh, Jimmy closed his eyes, laid his head down, and knew no more._

_The first thing that hit Jimmy when he came to was the smell of the smoke, so dense and black, all around him. It smothered him, and he coughed, trying to catch his breath. He tried to lift his head but cried out from the huge pain pressing down on him. It hurt like hell. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his head but it didn't do any good. It was agony just to move._

_He tried to call out for Billie Joe but it was useless. He couldn't form the words. He felt sick, and prayed that he wouldn't vomit. He wasn't certain that he wouldn't choke. _

_With a whimper, he managed to roll over slightly, and was greeted with the sight of broken bodies for as far as the eye could see. They had been blown apart, by the same blast that he assumed had injured him._

_A horrific feeling of dread pooled in his stomach as he took in all that was left of the figure lying nearest him. Evidently, he had been one of the lucky ones._

_The voice, when it came, took him completely by surprise._

"_Well, well. Look what we have here."_

_Jimmy froze. With a sinking feeling, he looked up into Exterminator Korse's sneering face. He felt sickened. He had been so close to getting out of there, with Billie. What had happened? Where was everyone? Where was Billie?_

"_Where's Billie Joe?" Jimmy croaked, and then, more clearly; "What have you done with him?"_

"_Oh, poor little Jimmy," Korse chuckled, smirking coldly, "All alone. No friends."_

"_Billie Joe!" Jimmy yelled desperately, with a sob, twisting onto his side once more, trying to crawl away from Korse. "BILLIE!"_

_Korse looked on, amused._

"_Billie's long gone, Jimmy. He didn't even bother to check if you were still alive before he got the hell out. You weren't that important to him." His eyes blazed. "I'm very sorry."_

"_Shut the fuck up," Jimmy moaned. "You're lying. He wouldn't just leave me here-"_

"_They left you behind," Korse cut across him. "They rescued the prisoners they wanted and then ran like the cowards they are." He tilted his head as he approached Jimmy. "I guess you weren't one of the lucky, chosen few."_

_Jimmy, adrenalin now pumping through him, tried to move, to scramble away from Korse, who was bearing down on him with a sickening leer, but he had nowhere to go. "Keep away from me!"_

_Korse raised an eyebrow. "Look around you! Do you see any others conveniently forgotten?"_

_Jimmy did. He looked. There were the unfortunate bodies of his fellow escapees and rebels strewn everywhere but there were no one else left alive. He closed his eyes as the realisation hit him._

_Billie wasn't coming back. Billie had abandoned him._

"_Do you see now?" Korse was saying. "Do you understand what you mean to these people, Jimmy?" _

_Jimmy did see. Billie Joe had left him to his fate. He didn't care about him._

_He was alone, and at Korse's mercy._

"_Look at me, rebel."_

_Jimmy lifted his gaze to look at Korse, who raised an eyebrow when he saw the state Jimmy was in. "That's a nasty burn," he whispered, indicating Jimmy's face. _

_The other man frowned. What burn? He guided his shaky hand to his face and gently touched his cheek, which, now he came to think of it, had felt numb. He moaned when he felt the heat from his burn scolding his fingertips. Fear seized him. Just how bad was it? He cringed when he glanced back up at Korse, and saw that the Exterminator had knelt down beside him, and was offering his hand to the broken man. "You're going to have a scar there. Our Doctors are the best in the world. Let us take care of you."_

_Jimmy closed his eyes. What option did he have? Where could he go if not with Korse? _

_He had nobody._

_Korse was smiling coldly. "It makes sense and you know it. Billie Joe let you down, my company will make you a somebody. Come with me, Jimmy."_

_After a moment's more hesitation, Jimmy reached up, and grasped Korse's hand._

_And gave in._

"Jimmy?"

Jimmy flinched as the quiet voice brought him out of his musings, and he grimaced in annoyance. He looked over at Billie Joe who was watching him intently.

"What?" Jimmy snapped.

Billie cleared his throat. "The weapon, it was never the plan to use it."

Jimmy smirked. "Oh, really? You just wanted to keep it then, I assume."

There was an uncomfortable silence. "I wanted to destroy it." He lifted his eyes, and met Jimmy's gaze once again. "I was overruled."

"Whatever you planned to do with it," Jimmy snapped in reply; "My orders are clear. Find the weapon and make it safe." He took a step forward. "If you take me to the weapon, I'll let the others go. Lie to me, and they'll die. And I'll make you watch. Understood?"

Billie Joe stared at the ground. "Jimmy, what happened that day, in the prison, I never meant to hurt you-"

"Save it!" Jimmy threw at him. "I'm not interested. All I want to know from you is whether you agree to take me to the weapon?"

After a second's hesitation, Billie replied, very quietly. "Okay."

Jimmy blinked. "You'll show me? No tricks?

"I'll take you to where we buried it, as long as you don't hurt Mike or the Killjoys."

"Fine," Jimmy snapped.

He turned to walk back through the door, into his main office, when he noticed that Billie hadn't moved, and was still sitting in the floor, watching him.

Jimmy paused, frowning as he regarded Billie, apparently considering something. Then, with a sigh, the Exterminator moved to a closet on the far side of his office and pulled open the door. He grabbed at a large sheet, and then slammed the door. He crossed the room quickly, and then threw the blanket toward Billie, who deftly caught it. When Billie eyed him questionably, Jimmy shrugged. "We've got a long journey in the morning, across the Zones, you need to get some sleep. Use the couch through there. The blanket will help."

Billie Joe gave Jimmy a tiny smile. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me, Billie Joe."

Billie didn't reply, he simply moved to stand by the couch, grasping the blanket, and watching Jimmy closely, apparently awaiting instructions.

With a curt nod, Jimmy turned tail, and walked away, leaving Billie to make himself comfortable on the coach. On his couch. Jimmy's couch. His room, his company. He was calling the shots now. Not Billie Joe, and definitely not Gerard Way...

Jimmy went back into his office, and closed the door behind him. Then, he switched his screen back on, stroking distractedly at his scar. With a disgruntled sigh, he sat down and resumed his spying on Frank and Gerard, noting satisfactorily that neither man had moved from before. Jimmy liked this. No easy fix. Gerard had had his chance with Frank, and he'd messed up.

His time was over.

It was Jimmy's turn now...

XXX

Michael was sat cross-legged on the sand in front of the crackling fire, staring into the bright flames that were flickering and spitting before him. He was alone, having moved away from Leon and the others, simply telling them that he wanted some time to himself. Since he had gotten his wish though, his thoughts kept wandering, taking him away from Leon, Viper and the group he had now found himself with. He thought back to his life in the City. and how instantly and dramatically everything had changed for him. What exactly was he? A murderer? A rebel? A wanted man on the run and fighting to survive? He didn't know anymore. Exterminator Michael died with his girlfriend and he knew that was for the best. Whoever he had been, he was definitely not him any longer. Michael had been created by the company, nothing but a puppet to use as they saw fit. They had prepped him as a killing machine, something deep inside he knew was not the man he was. He still couldn't remember who he was before he woke up in that City, hadn't even experienced any flash backs for some time. He had wondered why. Why had he been dreaming in the City? Was it to do with that man? His brother, so the man Bob had told him. The brother he couldn't recall. The same red haired man from his dreams that he had killed _her_ for? Was he the reason he'd begun to doubt himself and the Corporation at all?

Had he sensed who the helpless man really was?

Michael didn't have any answers. He wondered if he ever would have. What happened to that man, the man he saved? Was he still alive, stuck in the City, being imprisoned? Tortured? The thought turned Michael's insides to ice, and he knew he loved this Gerard. Knew that they had once been close. It wasn't only because of what Bob had told him. Michael _knew _he had loved his brother. He shook his head, trying to clear his muddled head. It was horrendous, forever knowing that he was incomplete, knowing that there was a huge chunk of his life, of who he actually was, just missing for him.

They had done this to him. They had turned him into a wreck, and he hated them for it.

"How ya' doing, buddy?"

Michael jumped, and turned to see Viper standing beside him, smirking down at him.

"Sorry," he added, with a cold smile. "Did I startle you?"

The other man frowned. "No," he snapped, abruptly. "I just wanted to be by myself-"

Viper gave him a knowing look. "Its not good to be alone in the zones, boy. It can be dangerous. Lots of nasties about at night."

Michael looked away from the sneering man, turning his attention back to the fire. "I don't scare easily, Viper," he muttered. "So don't worry about me."

Viper moved closer, and Michael couldn't help but squirm where he sat. The man was odious.

"But I do," Viper hissed. "I worry about you a lot. What was someone as sweet, as unspoiled as you doing in the Zones all by yourself in the first place?"

Michael shrugged his shoulders, trying to push the other man away. "You know why I'm here-" He began, but Viper interrupted him, actually grabbing his arm and holding on when Michael tried to pull away again, keeping him close.

"I know why you said you're out here, in the Zones, _James_. But I wonder, was what you said the truth?"

Michael actually trembled slightly, trying to contain his anger. Every instinct was screaming at him to take down the bastard, to shut him up anyway he could. But he stayed calm, silently praying that Viper would get bored, and leave him be.

After a pause, he replied; "My reprogramming failed. I met a rebel in the City and he helped me to escape and gave me a map to a rebel base, where I'd be able to get help and pass on any information about those BL/Ind. bastards that I can. I've told you this before, now, will you please leave me alone?"

Viper gave him a toothy grin, reached out, and brushed his hair away from his face.

"You know what, pretty?" The repellent man taunted him. "I can't help but look at you and think there's a lot more to you than meets the eye..."

Just as Michael didn't think he could take any more, he saw another figure quickly approaching and within seconds, Leon had joined them in the small clearing.

"Viper," the leader said at once, not looking at Michael. "Take the watch."

Viper gave the other man a long stare.

"It's not my turn, boss."

Leon narrowed his eyes. "I'm telling you to take your turn now."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

Michael was quiet, making sure he wasn't dragged into any impending argument. He could feel Viper's threatening gaze on him for a moment, and then it was gone, and he heard that spiteful chuckle once more.

"As you wish," Viper purred. He reached out and grasped Michael's shoulder. "I'll see you later, pretty."

And with that, the thuggish man sauntered away, whistling a happy tune to himself.

Leon watched him go, and then crouched beside Michael.

"You okay?" He enquired softly. "I'll tell him to stay away-"

Michael gestured, irritated. "Don't waste your breath," he retorted. "I can handle one sad, incompetent rebel-" He stopped and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry," he sighed. "That sounded like a Draculoid comment, didn't it?"

Leon gave him a kindly smile. "Just a little," he said. "Don't worry about it though. I won't tell anyone." He stood again, nudging Michael to get him to turn around. When Michael did so, Leon threw him a tin of beans. "Try this," he said brightly. "It's a Zone delicacy."

Michael smiled. "Thanks," he replied. After a brief pause, he added; "I really appreciate you guys letting me run with you like this. I know Viper doesn't trust me, and he's probably right to feel like that. I am a stranger, and strangers usually mean trouble." He looked down, brushing his dark hair behind his ears. It suddenly dawned on him that he had allowed his hair to grow past a tidy length. She would have been most unimpressed. Turning his thoughts back to Leon, Michael smiled. "Anyway, I just wanted to say, thank you for taking a chance with me. You won't regret it."

Leon grinned. "Get some rest," he told the younger man. "Even some sleep, if you can. We'll camp here for the night and set off again as soon as it's light." He turned, beginning to walk away, when he paused, and then looked back, and said, almost as an afterthought:

"I preferred your hair blond, you know."

Michael stared at him, open mouthed.

Leon smiled, a twinkle in his eye. "Have a good night, _Kobra Kid_."

Michael stopped. He looked over his shoulder sharply but the group leader was already hurrying away. The former Exterminator stared after him, already wondering exactly what the man knew.

And hearing that name.

_Kobra Kid. The Killjoy._

_Him._

It made Michael's blood run cold and left him with the same question, echoing around his brain.

_Just who the hell was he? _

XXX

Gerard was still sitting on the ground, his back against the wall, while Frank was sat on the bed, swinging his legs. They had not spoken since they had first entered the room, and, if they were both honest, the silence was sending the pair of them mad. Finally, Gerard caved. With a heavy sigh, he cleared his throat, and spoke up.

"Are you going to talk to me?"

Frank looked over at him, and frowned. "I don't see the point, Gee. Like I said earlier, I can't pick up again from where you and I left off. Too much has happened-"

"I know that," Gerard said, a little too quickly. "I'm not an idiot, Frank. I know things are different now. You and I are different. It's just the two of us now. We're all we've got."

Frank shook his head, keeping his gaze looked on the ground, refusing to look at Gerard. "It's more than that, Gee." He told him. "I loved you more than anything in this life. I gave you my heart, body and soul and you turned your back on me, you trusted Bert over me."

Gerard bit his lip painfully. "I wasn't myself then, Frank. I was so confused, so scared. I knew Korse was still after me, knew someone was betraying me-"

"And you preferred to think it was me over Bert?" Frank's eyes flashed dangerously.

"I fucked up," Gerard announced, his hands outstretched. "I know that. All I can say is sorry. Would it help if I got on my fucking knees and begged you to forgive me? I'll do it, Frankie. I'll do it right now."

Frank actually pushed out at Gerard then. "I already told you!" He yelled. "It's not just about that. I got you back but then, you gave up. You made me kill you and I've had to live with that ever since. You didn't just ask me to kill you, Gee. I killed myself that day too. There was nothing left of me, and you asked me to put myself through that. How could you do that to me? How could you be that heartless?"

Silence reigned once more for a few moments, as neither man met the gaze of the other. After a few very uncomfortable minutes, Gerard addressed Frank again. "Just so you know, as soon as I woke up in this hell hole, I wanted you. I've missed you, Frank. I fought back against Korse to get out of the prison I'd set up for myself, in my own fucking head, so I could be with you again. When they told me you were dead, and I was too late, I almost gave up there and then-"

"Why didn't you?" Frank asked, quietly.

"Because I wanted to do you proud," Gerard replied, stepping closer to Frank. "I died in that room, but I didn't give up. I'll never give up." He gently caressed Frank's cheek. "You have my word on that."

And then, Gerard, very carefully, reached out and took Frank's hand.

Frank's breath caught in his throat, and he gazed down at his hand, and Gerard's grip on it. Then he looked up, and stared at the other man. Gerard stared back, and rubbed at Frank's skin. Then, he brought Frank's hand up to his lips, and gently kissed it.

All it took was the feel of Gerard's hand on Frank's, flesh on flesh, for them both to realise how much they had missed each other physically as well as mentally. They could not wait a moment longer. Looking at one another, both flushed and gasping, all the old feelings came flooding back. It was pointless to resist that passion, and they didn't want to. They needed each other. No, they _craved_ each other.

And Party Poison knew that it was time for him to take the lead once again.

Breathing loudly, he quickly closed the distance between himself and Ghoul, releasing Frank's hand and instead using it to caress the other man's cheek lovingly. This would be an entirely different kind of encounter to their last sexual experience. This was about the two of them being together again. They both needed the other man equally. Gerard stoked Frank's hair, whispering words of love and devotion in his ear, and then leaning forward, kissing him gently, the kiss quickly becoming more passionate as they crushed their bodies together. Poison, suddenly wanting to devour the other man, to claim him as _his_ once more, bit down on Frank's lip, eliciting a moan. Poison then slipped his hands behind the brunette and forcibly grabbed his ass, forcing their bodies even closer together.

"_Gerard..._" Frank moaned in response to the hard friction of their members rubbing together through their clothes, the heat of their bodies beginning to increase, and quickly driving both men to the brink of a total loss of control. Poison kissed Ghoul's neck, licking and sucking, and causing yet more moans and whimpers from his lover. He hungrily pressed his tongue against the other man's lips, begging for entrance; and Frank happily conceded. The animalistic instinct took over as they both fought for dominance, which Poison eventually won. Frank whimpered, closing his eyes and tilting his head back as Poison kissed his way down Frank's jaw line, down to his neck, and Frank hissed in pleasure.

"You okay?" Gerard whispered in his lover's ear, needing to hear his permission one more time, acknowledgement that Frank was happy to continue. The loud groan that he drew from the other man told him everything he needed to know.

Grabbing at Ghoul's shirt with shaking fingers, Poison lifted the fabric over the other man's arms, pulling it clear and discarding it. Ghoul mirrored this movement, accidentally tearing Poison's shirt in the process, earning him a snarl from his close-to wild lover. Both of their hands were on their belts then, making light work of each other's trousers and boxers. They both stood there, breathing hard, staring at the naked form of the other. The joy to be like this with each other again, to be this close, it meant so much to them both and no words were needed. Poison took control once again, taking hold of Frank around his waist and pulling him close once more.

Poison slid down Ghoul's lithe body, his tongue starting from his neck, sensually trailing down. The red head stopped at one of his nipples and lightly flicked it with his tongue, proceeding to wrap his lips around it. Ghoul arched his back and whimpered from the sensation of what Poison was doing to him. His lover continued on, his tongue trailing down his fellow Killjoy's perfect form, Poison's hands clawing their way down the brunette's back. After teasing him for long enough, and nearly driving his lover wild, Poison finally reached Ghoul's groin. His cock was ready, pre-cum leaking from the tip. Poison's desire filled stare met Ghoul's once more, and then he leaned in, licking from the base of the shaft to the top. Ghoul swore loudly, thrusting his hips forward and reaching down to grasp his lover's head to steady himself.

He opened his mouth, taking all of Frank, and began to suck gently. Frank moaned loudly, His hand putting a slight pressure Gerard's head, controlling the rhythm of his mouth. Unexpectedly Gerard opened his throat, taking Frank in, deep throating him completely. The brunette spasmed in response, yelping in complete ecstasy. Gerard lifted his hand, and started to caress Frank's torso, while he lifted his other hand to grasp the base of Frank's penis, stroking him while he continued to suck the other man. Frank could feel his climax building, but he wasn't ready to cum just yet, so he lightly slid his hand underneath Gerard's chin, guiding him back up to a standing position. Frank pecked Gerard on the lips, "I want you to make love to me," he hissed, an earnest look of need on his face. The brunette took Gerard's hand, leading him toward the mattress in the corner of the cell, and then perched on the edge, his gaze not leaving Gerard's.

Gerard smiled and leaned in for another kiss, even more passionate than before, pressing their bodies against each other once more. At this moment, neither could stand not touching each other for long. Their bodies tangled together as they kissed, Gerard ferociously grinding his body against Frank's. He pushed against Frank then, gently laying him down beneath him, flat on his back. He gripped Frank's legs and placed them over his shoulders, taking the chance to also coat his fingers with saliva and then lowering them, entering Frank with one digit. Frank breathed out heavily through his nose as Gerard proceeded to push his finger in and out of him, before adding a second and then a third. He felt the burn and began to pant, as the invading, but wanted, fingers stretched him wider. After a few moments, Gerard removed his fingers all together, spat once more into his hand, rubbed it over his cock a second time, and lifted Frank's legs to rest over his shoulders. He gazed down at his lover then, a look of pure love spreading across his face. Frank gazed back, and then, very carefully, he nodded. Gerard breathed hard, and then eased his way forward, gritting his teeth until he was fully sheathed inside. After a moment of getting used to the feeling of being so completely filled, Frank gazed into Gerard's deep, hazel eyes and whispered, "Move, Gee."

That was all Poison needed. Taking hold of Frank's hips, Gerard pushed forward, thrusting hard into his lover. The other man couldn't hold back a shriek of happiness, and Gerard, cursing, slammed a hand over his mouth, stifling the cry. "Ssh," he moaned, desperate to prevent any more shouts, last thing they needed was an appearance from a Draculoid guard. He gasped, as he manoeuvred Frank's body into a perfect position, to give himself better access. He then proceeded to thrust himself into Frank repeatedly, all the pain, and fear, and despair, and joy of being with the man he loved again culminating in that one moment. He took Frank hard and Frank was taking it gleefully, revelling in the perfect cocktail of pleasure and pain. He welcomed all of it, all of Gerard, and as his lover began to hit that sweet spot inside of him, again and again, the pleasure quickly took over from the pain. Both men were soon sweating and panting, taking what they needed from the other. When Gerard could feel he was tantalisingly close, he moved his hand and took hold of Frank's cock, pumping him vigorously. Frank had his eyes tightly closed and chewed hungrily on his lip, drawing blood, as wave after wave of delirious pleasure swept through him. As he came, he felt Gerard quickly following, holding him closely to him as he shot his seed deep into Ghoul's quivering form.

When he was done, covered in sweat and shaking for exhaustion and emotion, Gerard leaned forward, and kissed Frank's neck gently, biting down, marking him once more as his. Frank felt the strong sensations of contentment and love washing over him as he laid there, in Gerard's arms. At last, his Gerard was there, with him, and he wasn't going to go away this time.

Frank knew, in that glorious moment, that everything was going to be okay.

"I love you so much, Frankie," Gerard breathed in his ear. "Nothings gonna separate us again. I promise."

"I love you too, Gee;" Frank replied, aching but happy.

Gerard released Frank finally, lying down beside him, and pulling the smaller man towards his chest.

"You okay?" He whispered, gently stroking Frank's long hair.

"I'm great," Frank replied, with a contented sigh. "I'm with you. 'Course I'm fine."

Gerard smiled, and planted a soft kiss on the top of Frank's head.

"We should get some sleep while we can;" Gerard said quietly. "We don't know what these bastards are planning to do-"

"Gee," Frank interrupted. "I wanted to ask you something." He twisted his head round to look up at the other man. "You didn't really give me a chance to speak at all earlier. Not between all the arguing and then the screwing, you know?"

Gerard grinned. "Fair point. What's on your mind?"

Frank hesitated for a second, before saying, quite softly; "That man, the guy with the scar-"

"Forget him," Gerard said, at once.

Frank frowned. "But, who is he?"

"He's no one." Gerard took Frank's hand and squeezed it. "He's nobody important. Fuck him."

"But-"

"Frank, you don't know him, alright?" There was a sudden edge to Gerard's tone. "Forget him or I swear to God, I'll kick you out of bed."

Frank giggled. He couldn't help himself. He wasn't exactly satisfied by Gerard's non answer but he wasn't about to push the point further at that moment. All he wanted was to hold the man that he loved, the man he had believed he would never see again. He snuggled up to the other man, and closed his eyes, a happy smile on his lips.

They allowed themselves to drift off like that, their exhaustion getting the better of them, as they held onto each other as if their lives depended on it.

XXX

Jimmy sat back, staring at the screen, his eyes narrowed, as he breathed harshly. He stared at the two men on the monitors, so close, so _together_, and he was suddenly aware of a need to punch his fist through the screen.

Gerard's words to Frank, to _his_ Frank, echoed in his head:

_"He's nobody important. Fuck him."_

Jimmy clenched his fists together as he felt the anger and hate deep inside. There was another emotion too, stronger than any other. Jealousy. He was jealous of Gerard Way and it was driving him insane. Why should he have Frank and Jimmy not? Why should Jimmy have nothing? So, Gerard had been through hell with Korse, but so had Jimmy. And there had been no Frank there to comfort Jimmy, to nurse him back to health. Jimmy had had nobody. And nothing had changed. These Killjoys were in love, and it sickened him. Even after Gerard had made Frank kill him, giving him that much guilt and self hatred, the other man _still _fell back into his lover's arms, all of it forgotten. That was true love. And that was exactly what Jimmy had never known.

He had always been denied. Denied by Johnny. Denied by Billie Joe.

_Billie Joe..._

Jimmy looked over at the sleeping Billie Joe, his hand instinctively moving to his chin as he eyed the former singer, his former idol, thoughtfully. He had loved Billie Joe, he had tried to change for him, tried to become a better man just so he could stay in the Green Day front man's life. But it had not been enough. Billie had ordered Jimmy away, told him he was a lost cause, that there was no saving him . He had forced him to walk the Zones alone, to work as a Drug Agent for Korse, just in order to stay alive and keep the drugs he so desperately needed within reach. The drugs were all he'd ever had, the only constant in his life that had never deserted him. Billie Joe had. Even when Jimmy had believed, had reached out to his former hero, Billie had let him down, and left him, once again, in Korse's clutches. Jimmy had been tortured repeatedly by the Exterminator, mentally and physically, until there had been nothing left, nothing but the BL/Ind. puppet that they had created. He'd accepted the position as an Exterminator so he could hunt down and avenge himself on those that had betrayed him. Billie Joe, Tre and Mike, he'd wanted to hurt all three of them. Feeling Tre's life ebb away, making Billie watch as the man he loved faded to nothing was the only moment Jimmy had felt peace in so long. And now, he had the man himself there, helpless, in front of him. No one was coming to save Billie Joe Armstrong this time. This time, Jimmy was in control.

And he would make Billie Joe see that.

Shoving his chair back, and taking a quick swig off the glass of liquor at his side, Jimmy strode over to his office, and snapped loudly: "Open."

The door swung forward at once, and the Exterminator marched up to Billie, and grabbed as his blanket, pulling it off of the sleeping man violently. Billie, with a gasp, awoke at once and stared up at Jimmy with wide eyes.

"Up!" Jimmy barked. When Billie didn't respond instantly, Jimmy grabbed a fist of his hair and dragged him into a sitting position. "I said," he hissed; "Get up."

"Jimmy," Billie begun, but one look from the evidently furious man made him close his mouth.

Jimmy smirked. "You finally shut the fuck up," he sneered. "At long fucking last."

Manhandling Billie away from the couch, Jimmy then pulled the smaller man toward his bed. Billie struggled against him valiantly but Jimmy would be denied. He simply tightened his hold, bundling Billie forward, and throwing him bodily on to the bed.

"Whatever you're planning, Jimmy;" Billie told him, trying to keep calm; "You gotta remember that you're a good man and-"

Jimmy threw his head back and laughed. "Is that what you fucking thought when you sent me away? When you told me I was good for nothing?"

Billie wouldn't give up. "Jimmy, you don't want to hurt me-"

"Don't I? That's because, 'I'm a good man', right?" He leaned ever closer, whispering in his ear. "What about everything I've done? All the people I've killed?" His smile was one of pure evil. "What about the day I murdered Tre in front of you?"

Billie Joe froze. It was as if everything had suddenly gone into slow motion. He raised his head, and stared, open mouthed, at the smirking man.

"What did you say?"

He laughed. "I think you heard me, sweetheart?" He stroked Billie's hair away from his forehead. "What say you now then? Am I still _good_?"

Billie was trembling all over. He continued to stare at the other man, trying to control his emotions, trying to stay in control of the situation, of himself. His thoughts rushed back to that fateful day and he pictured the robed Exterminator in the mask that had injected that shit into his best friend. He saw Tre lying on the ground in front of him, writhing in agony, he heard his terrified screams of pain, remembered that helplessness Billie had felt as Tre had slipped away in his arms. He looked up into Jimmy's mocking eyes and felt more anger, and more rage then he had ever done before.

"You bastard," Billie hissed. "You murderous piece of shit."

"Aw," Jimmy said, with mock hurt. "What happened to all that 'good man' bullshit?"

"Tre never did anything to hurt you-"

"Don't you get it? It wasn't about Tre. It was about hurting _you_. It was about taking someone special away from you and having the pleasure of watching you cry as someone you loved die horribly." He lightly touched Billie's face. "And do you know what? Watching you in agony made me feel so alive."

"I hate you," Billie exploded, surging forward, grabbing for any part of St Jimmy he could reach, "I fucking hate you. I'll kill you!"

Jimmy, still laughing, managed to seize Billie's flailing fists, and pinned them down beside him, forcing him back on to the bed until he was lying on top of him. He licked up the side of Billie's face and Billie turned away in disgust.

Jimmy took exception to that response, grabbing Billie's chin and forcing him to look directly at him. "You listen to me," he spat, showering Billie with spit. "You owe me. I waited for you in that prison, and you left me there. You made out you'd come for me but when there was any risk to you, you ran like the coward you really are, and I was left there all alone, with Korse."

"That wasn't how it was," Billie yelled back. "You've twisted it-"

"Shut up!" Jimmy shouted. "Don't lie to me. I had no choice but to become this or they would have destroyed me. I'd be dead and do you know why I fought to stay alive? So I would get a chance to show you what _you _created."

Billie closed his eyes, and whimpered. He didn't _want_ to face this. He didn't want to hear Jimmy's next words.

"You made me what I am today," Jimmy smirked. "You're the reason Tre's dead. If you'd saved me, like you promised me you would, he'd still be alive."

"Please..."

"It's your fault!"

Billie shook his head helplessly, and then cringed when Jimmy's hand was on his groin, slowly unbuckling his belt. "Jimmy, wait. Please. Don't-"

"I told you to shut up."

"But I don't want this-"

Jimmy's face was suddenly right next to Billie's.

"I don't care what you want. Like I said, you owe me. Now, lay back and let me take what I deserve. I don't have to hurt you bad, Billie-Boy. It's up to you. You can even enjoy this." He gave him a cruel smile. "Be my whore, Billie Joe."

Billie closed his eyes, shame coursing through him. He knew it was hopeless, knew he couldn't stop Jimmy. Jimmy would happily take him by force if he had to, so he stopped struggling. He heard Jimmy's triumphant chuckle, and then turned his head to the wall and stared, trying to shut down, his eyes locked on the shiny whiteness he saw there. Silent tears fell down his face because he knew he would never feel clean again.

He stayed perfectly still as he let Jimmy take exactly what he 'deserved'.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi all! Special surprise for you guys, one more chapter before the end of the year! This isn't as long as recent chapters but I hope you enjoy it regardless! The next will follow shortly!**

**No new warnings for this one, apart from mentions of previous non-con. Thanks to Amy for checking it over for me...**

**Anyway, please let me know what you think of this one! I do love to hear from you guys, please keep the reviews coming!**

**Happy New Year!**

**Purifying Flame**

**Chapter Eight**

The Draculoids had come for them early the next morning. Gerard and Frank had been snuggled together, once more fully dressed, when they had been rudely awakened and dragged from their slumber. Gerard had found himself thrown to the floor, where he was spitefully kicked. This had resulted in Frank shouting his anger at his boyfriend's treatment, only for him to be bundled over himself to experience a similar beating. They had both been dragged up then, and manhandled toward the door, where they found Bob and Mike already in the corridor, surrounded by a patrol of Draculoids. Gerard had enquired as to what was happening, and a Drac had answered him with a curt "Move rebels." They'd had no choice but to obey.

Not wanting to speak, the rebels had moved through the City in silence, heading from the Detention Centre in the Residing Halls. Not that it mattered what part of the City they found themselves in, it all looked depressingly identical. Gerard hated the place, had always hated the place. He remembered the first time he was shown here, before the bombs had fallen, before the Co-ordinator and Korse had taken over. Back when Better Living was still merely a business, not a super power that desired to control the world. Gerard had been shown around the company, along with his fellow band mates, just like anybody who happened to be in the public eye. When Better Living Industries were finding those they could depend on. My Chemical Romance had been the opposite. Gerard had always seen through the lies and seen the company for what they were. A corporation that wanted to take away people's imaginations, their very identity, despite their promises of simply wanting to make people's lives stress and worry free. They didn't want to take away people's worries, they wanted to remove free will. And when the bombs were falling, and people were crying out for help, for someone to 'make things better' the Corporation had arisen and become exactly what the sheep had wanted. Only a few had refused the pills, refused to follow the rest. Their resistance was not wanted though, and BL/Ind. soon began to hunt any "rebels" down. They had turned their attention to bands, to those telling their fans to ignore the lies, and had come after My Chemical Romance.

And not long after that, Billie had come for Gerard, and everything had changed.

Gerard's fears increased once more as his thoughts turned to his old friend. He didn't know what issues lay between Jimmy and Billie Joe, but he knew they weren't good. He knew what Jimmy was capable of, had seen it, felt it, for himself. And Jimmy had oozed hatred where Billie Joe was concerned, that had been obvious to everyone. Frank had told Gerard in their cell that Ray not only still lived, but had also entered the City with Frank and the rest, and Frank not only expected Ray to be more than fine, but also looking after the group of rebels that had remained after they had been split up; a group that had included Grace. This had been the best news for Gerard, especially as Frank had also explained that Ray had had a recent run in with Mikey, which had resulted in his brother sparing both Ray and Grace. This had given Gerard so much hope. Mikey was still in there somewhere, and if the eldest Way knew his brother at all, he would be fighting to beat that re-programming with everything he had left.

And there was more, of course. Gerard still remembered every second of his "dreams" with Korse, including the fact that he had heard Mikey's voice. Mikey had spoken to him, brought him out of his coma. Even if Jimmy had spoken the truth, and Mikey had been executed for killing the Co-ordinator, then this proved that his brother had died a free man.

And that meant everything to Gerard.

Poison suddenly felt Frank's grip tighten on his hand as the Draculoids led them down one more white corridor, and then gestured toward an open gateway. They could see St Jimmy standing just beyond the entrance, waiting for them to enter.

With no other option, Gerard and Frank led the way, with Bob and Mike right behind them.

Grinning from ear to ear, Jimmy stepped forward as soon as the rebels were herded through his doorway.

"Hello boys!" He announced brightly, his gaze lingering mostly on Frank. "Please, make yourselves at home!"

Mike wasn't looking at Jimmy. He was looking past him, through the glass doors, into the smirking man's bedroom. Without even bothering to acknowledge Jimmy, Mike rushed past him, charging through the doors, and falling to the ground beside Billie, reaching out a nervous hand to his best friend, too scared to touch him in case he scared him.

Billie Joe was lying face down on the bed, his whole form quivering, his face pressed into the pillows. He hadn't reacted when Gerard and the others had entered Jimmy's rooms, not even when Mike had flung himself toward him. He had stayed perfectly still, perfectly silent, except for a small tremor throughout his entire being that frightened Mike to his very core. He was so scared because Billie was scared. He had seen Billie face down foes a lot more threatening than Saint fucking Jimmy over the years that they had been running together and only once before had he seen Billie truly afraid. The day they had lost Tre. Now, he was reminding Mike of that day. There was a similar helplessness, an air of defeat to the situation that had also been rife that day. Mike took in Billie Joe's appearance now, his body language, and he looked back over at Jimmy with a cold stare. It didn't take much for Mike to realise what had happened in that room. He knew what Jimmy had done. He had used Mike's dearest friend, ravaged him, and had then discarded him, as if he were nothing.

"Billie?" Mike whispered, gently. "Look at me, man."

Billie Joe didn't reply. He merely curled in on himself even more. When Mike lightly touched him, Billie shot up as if he'd been shot, flinching away from the touch, trying to crawl into the wall, desperate to hide himself away, away from the prying, unwanted eyes.

And then, as Jimmy started to laugh, Billie responded like a man defeated. He clearly couldn't stand that laugh. He squirmed violently, and screwed his eyes up tight.

He didn't want anyone touching him. Not even Mike.

"Is something fucking funny?" Mike snarled, turning, fixing Jimmy with a death stare.

Jimmy made a face at him. "Billie Joe needed a good fucking so I gave him one," he responded crudely. "Not my fault I was too much for him."

Mike left Billie's side, lurching toward Jimmy, wanting to shut the man up any way he could, but he never got to him. He found a very determined Gerard Way blocking his every move. He yelled at Gerard furiously, trying to get round him.

"Get out of my way!"

"Don't give him the satisfaction, Mike. He doesn't need an excuse to kill you..."

Mike didn't want to listen to reason. He pushed Gerard back. "How can you say that? Don't you know what he did to him?" He gestured furiously to Billie's whimpering form. "Look at him!"

Gerard did so and then quickly glanced away. He knew only to well what had happened. He saw Billie's pitiful state, his defeated body language, the shame and humiliation radiating from him, and he knew what Jimmy had done. One quick glance to Frank and Gerard knew his boyfriend was also very much aware. And just as disgusted as Gerard. They both turned to Jimmy, and felt nothing but revulsion.

Jimmy, meanwhile, was gazing at Mike, a smirk on his lips, and then he stepped closer to the man, eye-balling him. He then laughed in his face.

"Are you upset that I got there first, Mike? Sorry about that. I've softened him up, you're free to try him out. To be honest with you though, he wasn't really worth the wait..."

Mike couldn't help himself. His whole body trembling with rage, he lunged for Jimmy, who recoiled quickly, somewhat surprised. Gerard, Frank and Bob leaped forward together, to prevent Mike from a course of action that would no doubt end in the man's death.

Sure enough, the surrounding Draculoids were all aiming their ray guns at Mike, ready to fire at one order from Jimmy. Suddenly, Billie, having forced himself away from the bed, was up and in front of Mike, gripping his friend's fists, trying to get through to the furious man. "Mike, you gotta calm down, buddy. This isn't helping any of us. Please listen to me! Stop!" He placed both his hands on his friend's face. "He didn't hurt me, Mike. I let him have his way with me and I'm okay." He fought back tears. "If I lose you Mike, I won't be okay. It'll kill me if I have to watch you die too. Please stop it!" And then, so desperately: "Mike! STOP this!"

After a few more tense seconds, Mike's anger suddenly began to subside, and he held onto Billie, burying his face into the other man's hair, until Billie was suddenly grabbed, and pulled away from Mike, despite both men's best efforts to get back to each other.

"Let him go, you bastards!" Mike snapped. "Fucking let go of him!"

Jimmy, watching intently, was clapping sarcastically, a wide smile on his lips. "Well done, Billie. Good job there, keeping your boy in check! Would be a shame if we had any accidents now, wouldn't it? Now, come here."

Much to the rebels annoyance, Billie, reddening, did as he was instructed, moving to stand beside Jimmy. Jimmy, beaming, then turned his attention back to Gerard, Frank, Bob and Mike. "In case you are wondering how this is gonna go down, gentlemen; Billie has agreed to come with me, and together we are going to find the weapon and make sure you rebel scum will never threaten the innocent lives in this city again. If you boys would mind waiting here, just to make sure Billie plays fair with me on our trip." His smile widened. "And of course, it goes both ways. I've made a deal to release you all once I have the weapon. If you try to escape before our return, then my Draculoids will let me know, and I'll be very happy to take your stupidity out on Billie." He tossed his head back. "Do I make myself clear?"

Mike looked as though he was ready to jump on Jimmy, only Gerard and Frank's holds on his arms were keeping him at bay. "How do we know you won't hurt him anyway?" He snarled.

Jimmy titled his head slightly. "You'll just have trust me, won't you?"

Mike snorted. "Trust you? When have you ever given us just cause?"

There was an uncomfortable silence. "Seeing as how you left me for dead," Jimmy breathed; "I don't see why you have the right to say that, Mike."

"Please Jimmy?" Billie suddenly asked, in a tiny voice. "Can I say goodbye?"

Jimmy grinned. "Be my guest!"

Mike and Billie were together at once, embracing tightly. Jimmy stood nearby, watching them with a disdainful expression on his face. Billie went to step back, but Mike held on, keeping his best friend close to him.

Jimmy let out an impatient grunt.

"Time to leave now, Billie." He announced, with some relish. A Draculoid took hold of Billie and bodily pulled him away from Mike. Billie gave the drone a hateful look and then glanced down when Jimmy threw him a warning glance. The man he had once tried to take under his wing now only wanted to hurt him, and he couldn't bear to look at him any longer. He turned his attention to the other rebels, nodding to each of them in turn, before rushing back up to Mike, before anyone could stop him, and grabbing his hand.

"I'll see you real soon, Bill," Mike told him.

Billie gave him a small smile. It was the smile of defeat.

Jimmy quietly chuckled from behind him. Mike glowered at Jimmy, but Billie blocked his path to the smirking Exterminator.

"Love ya, bro," Billie told him softly, and then turned away, refusing to look back.

Without another word, Billie walked, subdued, from the room, surrounded by the small patrol of Draculoids. Jimmy watched him go, and then smirked at all the remaining rebels, his cruel gaze finally falling on Frank. He gave the Killjoy a cheeky wink, and then laughed at the seething Gerard. Those left in the room could do nothing but stand there, helpless, as the Exterminator followed Billie Joe and the Draculoid guards from the room, an amused spring in his step.

Mike, fuming, let out an angry cry of _"Shit!"_ He then slammed his fist into the nearest wall, and then repeated the action, again and again, until Frank had seen enough, elbowing Mike out of harms way. Mike swung round, ready to take out his frustrations on the one that had stopped the wall's well deserved pounding, then paused, glancing down at his bloody fist. Breathing hard, he met Gerard's concerned gaze. "What the fuck do we do now?" He hissed, quietly. "He's gonna kill him-"

Gerard took a deep breath. "Don't, Mike. He'll be fine."

Mike let out a cold chuckle. "Who are you trying to kid? Me, or yourself? Jimmy will kill him as soon as he's no more fucking use to him, and you know it-"

Gerard shook his head. "You can't know that, buddy. I know it's tough, but you gotta stay strong..."

That was not what Mike needed to hear.

Rounding on Gerard furiously, and actually shoving the other man backwards. "What the fuck do you know about this, hey, Party Poison?" He waved his finger in the other man's face. "I've lost both my two best friends, I've got no one else." He leaned in closer, and snarled; "And unlike you, Way, I won't be lucky enough to have my friends miraculously come alive again..."

"Why don't you calm down, Mike?" Bob suddenly spoke up. "You think this is helping anyone?"

Mike glared at Bob. "No one asked you, asshole!" He spat. "Who gives a shit what you think anyway, Bob? They didn't want you, did they? Or have you forgotten?"

Bob went red, and quickly looked down. That had hurt.

Frank glowered at Mike, now feeling that his friend's words had finally overstepped the mark. As fiery as ever, the Killjoy made to move toward the older man, but Gerard grabbed at Frank's arm,holding him back. Frank began to voice his displeasure but one firm look from Gerard made him stop. Gerard then fixed the former Green Day member with an angry glare, and took a careful step toward him. Mike's whole stance showed that he was more than ready for a fight, and Gerard understood why. He felt that he, and they, had let Billie Joe down. He couldn't take his anger out on Jimmy or the Draculoids, so why not the Killjoys and Bob? Of course, Gerard knew only too well that fighting between themselves was not the answer.

He took a deep breath, and then said to Mike, very softly and calmly: "Do you think it's easy for Frank and I? Yeah, we've got each other again but we don't have Mikey or Ray. Finding Bob again has been a fucking blessing but we're still not complete, and we never will be." He leaned closer. "My fucking brother is dead, Mike. Executed by these bastards because he tried to save me, and I have to live with that. Do you feel it's not ripping me apart inside? Cos it fucking is!"

"Eh, Gee?" Bob said quietly, raising his hand. Gerard ignored him.

"I know this fucking hurts Mike, but you gotta keep it together, you gotta use your head, for Billie's sake-"

"You know what Jimmy did to him!" Mike said, at once.

Gerard nodded grimly. "Yes, I do. I knew as soon as we walked in the room." He glanced overat Frank. "I knew what Jimmy was capable of-"

"If you knew," Mike interrupted; "Then you should have fucking done something about it! You should have warned Billie-"

"Warned him about what?" Frank suddenly chimed in. "I'm not stupid, Gerard! Something happened between us and Jimmy, something bad. What did he do? And why can't I remember?"

Gerard frowned. "I can't tell you, Frank."

Mike raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, you couldn't tell Billie either, could you?"

And then, the three men, all with raised their voices, began to speak over the top of each other, all of them trying to make the others hear, and understand, the others point of view. Only Bob remained silent for a few moments, merely trying, in vain, to get Gerard's attention.

Reaching the end of his tether, Bob shouted out, over the top of the rest, fighting to make himself heard over the din, and finally, he did so.

"Will you all SHUT UP and listen to me! I _told _you! Mikey _is _alive!"

They all fell silent, each turning, as one, to stare at Bob, in complete amazement.

Gerard recovered first, simply gazing at Bob, as if he couldn't acknowledge the meaning of his words. "What did you just say?"

Bob swayed on the spot nervously. "I said: Mikey _is_ still alive! I told you that earlier!" A pause, as the ex drummer gazed nervously at his one time front man. "Didn't I?"

Gerard blinked, his face expressionless. Then, very carefully, he shook his head.

Frank stepped closer to Gerard, his body language tense as he glanced from his boyfriend to Bob.

"Bob, what the hell are you talking about? Have you _seen_ Mikey?"

"I-I thought I'd said something," Bob mumbled, looking from Gerard, to Frank, on to Mike fleetingly, and then finally back to Gerard, who was staring at him as if he couldn't believe his ears. He gulped as he went on. "He's out in the Zones, heading for Doctor Death's base. I helped him get away. Didn't I mention it?"

Frank covered his face with his hands. "Fucks sake, Bob..."

One lone tear slid down Gerard's face as he continued to gape at Bob.

"Mikey's alive?"

Bob let out a weary sigh, and then looked down. "He was fine the last time I saw him. He saved your life and killed the Co-ordinator. I tried to stop him but he was desperate to leave." He hesitated before going on. "I should have said this earlier, there was just so much going on..." He broke off, unable to finish off the excuse he had planned, and ended his sentence instead with a weak and apologetic; "Sorry."

Gerard was shaking. He didn't reply to Bob; instead he fell forward into his arms, taking the ex drummer completely by surprise, but somehow Bob managed to catch Gerard, whose relief poured out of him in laboured sobs. Gerard clung to Bob, not truly believing the words Bob had just told him.

Frank, smiling, met Bob's gaze, and gave him a small shake of the head, as he rubbed a comforting hand down Gerard's back.

Mike, meanwhile, was staring at Bob with something akin to disbelief.

Finally, he spoke up.

"Bob," he said, as all three former members of My Chemical Romance turned to face him. "You're _still_ an asshole."

XXX

The sun had recently risen once again in Zone Three, lighting up the desert and with it, bringing the harmful rays that Michael had quickly learned that he had to protect himself from. The sun was so hot, so _burning,_ that it seemed to singe his very skin. He was sitting under a small cover, a makeshift camp set up by the group and Michael had been very impressed by their expert and organised actions. He'd realised, with some guilt, that these people had been forced to live like this for some time. Scavenging. Surviving. And he knew who was to blame. He was, and everyone else connected to Better Living Industries. Everyone who had never even questioned what went on out in the Zones. Oh yes, he'd known about the rebels, it had been his job to find their bases and massacre them all after all. But he had never bothered to ask about the rest of the population. He hadn't been programmed to ask. There had been the City, and there had been the rebels. Nothing in-between. And the thought now sickened him.

He stretched, shielding his eyes once more from the sun's wicked glare. He knew he would get called on soon, as Leon had already woken him to tell him they would be moving on soon. The rest of the gang had already left the camp. He was grateful for that where Viper and his pals were concerned. They were three men Michael would quite happily never have to see again. Viper especially. The man's nasty piggy eyes were always staring and Michael felt sometimes that he could see directly into him. Every so often, Michael was hit with the worrying feeling that Viper did know everything about him, but then he had given himself a shake and had told himself to stop seeing problems that weren't there. The man was simply as a snake, as his name suggested. And not worth his concerns.

Michael suddenly looked up, listening intently. Could he hear something, not to far away. What was that sound? He stood up, moving in the direction of the noise.

Was that... singing? The Co-ordinator used to sing to herself sometimes. It had always been calming to him. But when he had enquired which song she was singing, and if she could teach it to him, his love had become very angry, reminding him nastily that "music was forbidden."

And that had been an end to the discussion.

But out in the Zones, they were free. They could sing, and they hum, and they could...

He paused, his eyes widening when he took in the scene before him.

The two youngest members of the gang, Johan and Electra, were sitting in a clearing together. They were the final two gang members and although hadn't tried to threaten him like Viper and the others, neither had they attempted to know him at all. They were perched on large rocks, sitting closely, and they were indeed singing a song together. But that wasn't all. Johan was playing an instrument. Michael couldn't take his eyes off of the object, he had never seen one before after all. All musical instruments were banned in the City, as were any opportunity people had to express themselves. He stared at it, remembering how some of his dreams, asleep and awake, had featured the instrument he had come to know was called a guitar.

Unable to prevent himself, he walked toward the kids, and they stopped playing and stood as soon as they saw him approaching. Michael held up an uncertain hand.

"Please," he told them, nervously. "Don't stop on my account."

Johan glanced quickly at Electra before responding to Michael.

"If we're bothering you-"

Michael interrupted him at once. "No, no. Not at all. The opposite actually."

Electra took a wary step toward the newcomer. "Do you like music?"

"I honestly don't know," Michael replied, truthfully. "It's banned in the city, and I don't remember a time before I was reprogrammed."

As they watched him, clearly unsure whether they should trust him or not, they both noticed how Michael seemed to be drawn to Johan's guitar. Johan glanced down at the instrument in his hands, and then back at Michael.

"Do you like it?" He asked, and then, more hurriedly; "I found it, I didn't steal it!"

"I didn't think you had," Michael said, and then looked down, unsure what to say.

After a brief wait, Johan spoke up once more. "Can you play?"

"No idea."

"Want to try?"

Michael gazed at Johan for a moment, as if he was digesting the offer he had just been made. Finally, he walked up to the young man, and took the guitar from him. He plucked at a string, grimacing when it made a sharp sound. He went to return it to Johan, but Electra piped up, raising to her feet herself.

"James, why don't you sit down?"

Michael paused, and then complied. James sat down beside him, took hold of Michael's hand, and moved it across the strings gently, making a strumming movement.

"Like that," he told him. "See?"

Michael hesitated, and then followed Johan's example as he began to strum. Very soon, and to his own amazement, he began to create quite a pleasant sound.

Johan and Electra were both staring at him, open mouthed.

"Wow man!" Johan declared. "You can play!"

For the first time in a long time, Michael actually smiled. "I guess so," he agreed.

Then all three of them laughed, excited by the discovery they had made all together.

Electra began to drum along to the music and then, grinning, she joined in by singing along once more, her quiet gentle voice raising up to the skies, as Michael accompanied her.

"_Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road"_

Johan quickly joined in, a big smile on his face.

"_Time grabs you by the wrist directs you where to go"_

Michael kept playing, watching them closely. Something about the song that they were singing was grabbing at him, seizing him by the gut and refusing to let go. _He knew that song. _Which was impossible. But despite that, there it was.

"What song is that?" He asked softly.

Electra shrugged. "An old one, from before the bombs fell." She glanced down. "My mom used to sing it to me." She titled her head slightly. "Don't you like it?"

Michael felt a wave of sadness hit him, though he had no idea why. After a beat, he replied; "I love it. Please, keep going."

She smiled widely at him. And then, they continued to sing, as Michael began to nod his head in time with the music he, unbelievably, was playing.

"_So make the best of this test and don't ask why, It's not a question but a lesson learned in time..."_**  
**

Leon, meanwhile, was watching the group them from a short distance away, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. He closed his eyes, letting the sound of the music wash over him. He knew that song too, and it felt good to hear it again.

He sang along, unable to stop himself:

_"It's something unpredictable but in the end, It's right I hope you've had the time of your life"_

Leon was so engrossed with the sweet, friendly scene occurring a few meters away from him, he didn't hear Viper creeping up behind him.

"Sickening, isn't it?"

Leon started, opened his eyes at once, and then his smile turned into a frown. He didn't bother to look at the other man.

"Three people enjoying themselves sickens you does it, Viper?" His lips curled disdainfully. "I guess that's where you and I are different."

Viper raised an eyebrow. "Two trusting young fools are taken in by a charismatic stranger. Yeah, I can see why you get your kicks from that-"

"What do you want, Viper?" Leon snapped, already having heard enough.

"Why did you let him join us so easily?" Viper retorted quickly. "What is about James thatmade you trust him? You refused to speak to Johan for two weeks after he joined us. It took you that long to believe that he wasn't a spy, so what's different about this new guy?"

Leon did turn and regard Viper then, with a look akin to dislike. "I don't have to explain myself to you-"

"Oh yes you fucking do," Viper cut him off sharply. "You owe me that much. I followed you to hell and back, Leon. I kept you alive those first few months, when you didn't know the first fucking thing about surviving in the wild. Maybe you should try remembering that sometime." He leaned in closer, snarling in the other man's ear. "I think I've earned some respect from you."

"Alright!" Leon snapped, angrily pushing Viper away. "James is important. He's the reason we are gonna walk right into a rebel base, the rebel base, and be accepted. They are gonna be so fucking grateful when they see him that they'll throw a fucking welcome party for us."

Viper furrowed his brow in confusion. "Why?" He gestured to Michael, still playing the guitar, happily singing with Electra and Johan. "What's so special about him?"

"All I'll say," Leon said, glancing down; "They'll be very pleased to see him."

Viper paused for a moment, and then smirked. "I get it. They want him dead, right? And he'll have no idea why! You're leading him to them like a lamb to the slaughter? I like it..."

"Fucks sake!" Leon stormed. "Is everything about death, pain and destruction for you, Viper?"

There was another uncomfortable moment between the men. "You have to ask me that?" Viper snarled. "After what they did to them?"

Leon took a deep breath. "I didn't mean that," he said, apologetically. "I know what you've been through, and I know you miss them."

A flash of anger shot across the other man's face. "You don't know shit."

Leon nodded. "You're probably right." He took a step toward Viper then, his tone becoming more firm. "Be that as it may though, you're gonna leave James alone. He's our shining fucking light after so long lost in the dark. We can get the hell out of this nightmare we've been stuck in, thanks to him. So do as I say this time, Viper. _Leave him alone."_

Viper didn't answer at once, he just continued to stare at Leon.

Against his better judgement, Leon reached out, and grabbed Viper's arms. "Do you understand me?"

Viper glared at him, clearly wanting to force Leon away from him. After a tense stand off, he finally replied, quite softly; "Sure." And then, after another pause; "Boss."

Leon seemed satisfied. He nodded curtly to Viper, and then walked away, not even bothering to offer Viper even a polite goodbye. The conversation was over and done with. Leon called to the others, telling them that it was time to get back on the road. Viper watched him go, and then, upon hearing a sound behind him, scowled as Skull and Jex moved to join him, flanking him.

"Look at those trusting ass-wipes," Viper spat, gesturing angrily. "All it takes is a pretty face..."

None of the three men spoke again as they watched Michael throwing an arm around Johan, as the young man pulled his guitar out of Michael's grasp. Electra joined in with the men's laughter, as they ran to join up with Leon. Viper narrowed his eyes as he watched the rest of his group laugh and joke with the stranger who had forced his way in, as far as Viper was concerned. He didn't like the outsider, didn't feel he belonged, and he certainly didn't trust him. Why should they? They didn't know him.

"We better get down there," Skull offered, glancing at Viper uncertainly. "Don't want them leaving us behind."

Viper actually snorted, not taking his eyes off of Michael. "Whoever the fuck he is," Viper hissed; "He's more important than simply being some lowly fucking Drac. I'm gonna find out the truth and when I do, if I don't like it, there's gonna be hell to pay..."

And with that, he headed down the hill, keeping away from the rest of the band, while his cronies rushed to keep up with him.

XXX

"I'm _not_ running away!"

"I'm trying to tell you, it's not running! It's surviving. I thought it's what you Killjoys were famous for?"

"No. We're famous for not giving up on our friends, Shona! How about you?"

Bandit and Grace were sitting on rocks, watching the continuing argument with dour expressions. Jet Star and Shona had been fighting since they had all awakened, both of them refusing to back down. Shona was stating that the four of them needed to go back to the rebel base, Jet Star wanted to go back into the City, declaring that he wouldn't leave his friends behind.

"You want to risk our lives?" Shona hissed, her fists clenched. "The girls?"

"And what about the others?" Ray snapped, equally angry. "We can't just leave them!"

"What do you think we can do?" Shona hissed at him. "You, me and the girls? If we go back in there, it'll be on a suicide mission and you know it."

Ray shook his head angrily. _"I can't just leave!"_

"We'll come back." Shona argued. "We need reinforcements though. And we need to get the girls to safety. Look at them! They're exhausted." She glanced down. "And so am I, Jet. We have to get out of here before we're caught."

Ray opened his mouth, as if he wanted to argue more, but then, with an air of defeat, he stopped. He then turned back towards the City, looking away from the others.

Shona, grimacing, turned her attention to Grace and Bandit. "Are you ready to move out, girls?" She enquired, placing a hand on Bandit's shoulder. "We gotta cross the Zones. Grace, you know how dangerous this is going to be. I need you to look after Bandit for me, yeah?"

Grace nodded firmly. "No problem."

Shona then looked back over her shoulder, and frowned. "Jet Star? Are you with us?"

And then, her expression softened.

Ray was standing, staring at the City walls, obviously conflicted. He knew in his head that what Shona had said was the truth; they _did _need to retreat to the base, temporarily, and then go back there with reinforcements. But it wasn't so easy to walk away. How could he leave, knowing that Frank was in there somewhere? And Billie Joe and Mike too, of course. They were his friends. But Frank? He couldn't lose him again...

Sensing his pain, Shona took Ray's hand, and squeezed gently. After a moment, Ray looked down at their linked fingers, and then up at Shona, who was eyeing him sympathetically.

"Frank would say the same, you know." She told him, softly.

Ray gave her a hard look at that. "All due respect sweetheart," he replied cuttingly; "But you don't know jack shit about Frank."

Shona nodded patiently. "Fair enough, I don't know him, it's true." She paused, before adding. "But I bet he'd want Grace safe wouldn't he? And Bandit?"

At that, Ray turned around to glance at Bandit. She was on her feet now, holding Grace's hand. And she had a look on her face that Ray recognised only to well.

It was a look her father had given him enough times after all.

A calm look. It was telling him: "Live to fight another day."

Ray knew he had no choice.

He nodded to Shona. "Okay."

Shona smiled at him gently. "We'll be back. And Frank will just fine. He's a survivor isn't he?"

"And Mikey?" Ray muttered. "What about him?"

"It's a new day tomorrow," Shona told him. "We're not done yet, Jet."

Ray squeezed her hand in return, and then released her, swallowing his pain down once again. He then moved quickly over to the girls, picking up the small amount of provisions they had managed to salvage.

"We need to head out then," Ray told them; "If we wanna be back at the base before it gets too hot to travel."

"Come on then," Shona told him. "We're all ready."

The four of them left their little camp behind then, sticking close to each other, beginning their long, and what was sure to be arduous, journey.

Unbeknownst to any of the rebels, they had not been alone in their camp. Another had been watching them the whole time, following them on their escape from the Education Centre, and then over the City borders.

One who had been ordered to simply watch, until a good opportunity revealed itself.

As it had just done.

The cloaked figure stepped out from his hiding place, keeping enough of a safe distance to ensure he stayed out of the rebels sight, but never lost sight of them. He moved his wrist communicator to his lips. "Be ready," he instructed. "They are heading towards you now."

David drew out his gun, holding it ready in both hands. Time to catch up with Shona...

He smiled.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi again everyone! Here's the next chapter for you. No new warnings on this one. Just to warn you, I will probably take a short break for a month of so now, mainly just to recharge the batteries and also to concentrate on finishing Best Intentions for a bit. I only have one chapter left on that. So, please bear with me, I won't be gone for long :) To the regulars, Thanks for leaving the reviews. Means so much to me, as ever. If you log in, I will respond to any reviews I get this time :)**

**Special thanks to these awesome people that stick with me every chapter :) I love you guys, really :)**

**Thanks also to Amy for checking this.**

**Enjoy and please drop me a review :)**

**~X~**

**Purifying Flame**

**Chapter Nine**

Ray, Shona and the girls were making progress through the Zones, getting ever close to the rebel base and safety. They had come across some good fortune along the way, discovering an abandoned diner on their journey, and had been able to stock up on water and food supplies. They only needed to cross one more Zone and they would be close to the base.

Ray wanted to keep going with no more stops. If they paused for another couple of hours, they would be unlikely to make the base before night fall, and would therefore need to set up another camp. Ray saw that as wasting precious time. Shona, however, felt that the girls needed another rest as they had been travelling for some time.

And, to the unhappiness of their young companions, yet another argument had broken out.

"Sometimes you can be so selfish, Killjoy. Do you know that?" Shona was hissing to Ray, her body language showing her complete annoyance at his stubborn attitude. "These girls are exhausted! They need a break!

Ray rounded on Shona. "We can make the base before it gets dark. I do know where I'm going!"

"No one said you didn't."

"If you weren't fighting against me the whole fucking time, we'd probably be there by now anyway."

"For Christ's sake!" Shona glared furiously at Jet Star. "The way you moan... No wonder that Exterminator wanted to kill you... "

As soon as the words left her mouth, Shona regretted them. Ray's look of fury changed to one of despair, and he turned away from the three of them, taking a few steps away, trying to regain control.

"I'm sorry," Shona said. "I shouldn't have said that."

He didn't respond.

With both the adults distracted, it was Bandit that saw them first. Pausing, clutching hold of her doll, she pointed into the distance.

"Jet Star?" She asked, her quiet voice breaking the awkward silence. "What is that?"

They all turned to look.

Shona covered her hand with her mouth. Jet Star's face darkened.

They saw two transporters, unmistakably BL/Ind, moving through the smoke, getting closer and closer. They were practically right on top of them. Jet Star could have kicked himself. How had he been so stupid? Too wrapped up in their own silly arguments, he hadn't been paying proper attention to what else was happening.

He could almost feel Party Poison's glare upon him...

Shona clasped his hand, and he knew why. She was horrified. They knew what this meant, the Draculoids had found them. As they looked on, one of the car pulled over, and a patrol of drones jumped from it, and began to approach the rebels, guns raised. The four of them stood, watching grimly as the Draculoids moved ever closer.

Jet Star was the first to recover.

"We have to move!"

Shona shook her head. "The girls can't outrun them."

He glared at her furiously. "I know that."

"What are we going-"

"I'll lead them away!" Jet Star snapped, interrupting her. "Just get the girls to safety-"

"There's too many!"

Jet Star actually smirked. "Impossible odds? That's how I like it." He threw her a quick grin, and then it was gone when he jerked his head toward Grace and Bandit once more. "That wall back there, get them behind that, and wait for my signal. Go Shona!"

Shona did as Jet Star told her. Grabbing the girls, she shepherded them away from the Draculoids. The Killjoy was already tearing away, and just as he had expected, the drones were moving away from them, following after the Killjoy. The diversion had worked. Pulling the girls with her, Shona raced toward the wall, indicating for the girls to sit behind it, to stay together, and to keep quiet. Bandit grabbed for Shona's hand.

"Don't go," she whispered, her big, brown eyes wide and fearful. "Please."

"I have to help Jet Star," Shona told her. "Just keep together and stay out of sight." she gestured to Grace. "Look after her." Grace nodded, and then Shona kissed both girls on the forehead. "I need you to be brave, okay? I'll be right back."

Pulling free of Bandit's hold on her, Shona whirled around, ready to assist Ray any way she could, rushing back around the wall. She heard the ray gun blasts first, and then spotted Ray through the desert mist. He was pinned down behind some large rocks, but he was holding his own. Raising her own gun, she moved forward.

Before she could make two steps, she let out a low scream when a ray gun blast struck her left shoulder, causing her to drop her gun as she was forced down to one knee by the unexpected, searing pain. She took a few deep breaths, keeping herself in control, and then stilled when she heard footsteps approaching her. After a beat, she looked up into the face of her attacker, expecting to see a Draculoid looming over here.

She gasped loudly when she saw that it was David.

He gazed down at her with no emotion, covering her trembling form with his blaster.

"Stand up," he instructed. "And keep your hands where I can see them."

"David," she whispered, so softly. "Don't you recognise me?"

He blinked, clearly trying to make sense of her words, and apparently failing. "I said," he snapped, waving his gun menacingly. "Stand."

She began to obey, moving slowly, keeping her hands out in front of her. As she stood at her full height, and he reached out to grab her arm, she suddenly attacked, kneeing him hard in the groin. He went down at once, yelled out in anguish, and covering his wounded area with his hands.

Shona didn't wait. She swung round, searching desperately for the girls, who were still crouching near by, watching her battle with terrified eyes. Grace had her arms around the smaller girl, obviously following Shona's previous instructions, and making sure she looked after her friend.

Shona nodded to them reassuringly. "Girls," she told them. "I need you to run. Go and find somewhere to hide. Jet Star and I will find-"

She didn't get a chance to finish her sentence as suddenly, David , from as if out of nowhere, barged into her, sending her sprawling, and winded by the sudden blow.

Before Shona could recover, David was upon her, forcing her down, as he dived on top of her.

Shona tried to push him away, but she was trapped, she couldn't move a muscle. She tried to cry out for Jet Star, but David quickly tightened his hold, and her cry came out as nothing but a pained gasp.

Painfully, she met his gaze.

For some seconds, they stayed like that, David pinning her down, his arm held against her throat, keeping her in place, as he held his gun against her head. She gazed up at him, breathing harshly, her eyes boring into his.

"Do it," she whispered. "If you're going to, just get on with it."

His eyes widened, and his hands shook. "He told me to kill the rebels," he stated, pressing the gun further into her flesh until she gasped in pain. "I _have_ to obey."

"I know," she told him gently. "It's okay."

She closed her eyes, and waited.

Moments passed, and he still hadn't fired.

Finally, she opened her eyes again, and saw he hadn't moved. After a few more torturous moments, he whispered, so softly that she thought she might have heard wrong, one word.

"_Billie?"_

Shona swallowed hard, unable to prevent a tear escaping and slipping down her cheek. "Yes, it's me. Come back to me."

David was shaking. He was staring from his gun to Shona and back again, as if he could not make up his mind what he should do.

What he _wanted_ to do.

"I have to," he muttered, more to himself. "I have no choice."

"You don't want to kill me," she told him, reaching out for him. "You're disobeying orders already. I can see that you're beginning to fight it, fight them. Listen to me!" And then, even though she knew how pitiful it sounded, she told him; "I love you."

David frowned, his hand still trembling as he covered her with his gun.

Without warning, he suddenly released her, and scrambled clear. Before Shona had a chance to speak, his face had darkened again, and he had whirled around, heading straight for where Bandit and Grace were cowering, their arms wrapped around each other. Pausing in front of them for a second, clearly making a choice, David then pushed Grace to one side, knocking her down, and then grabbed at a struggling Bandit, pulling her up, and holding on to her in a bruising grip.

Bandit seemed too scared to cry out at first, her big brown eyes locked on Shona, as if she still expected the woman to stop the bad man, and save her.

Shona, meanwhile, was staring at David as if she did not know him. Because, thanks to Better Living, she didn't. He was no more than a stranger. A puppet. And there was nothing she could do to bring him back.

To bring back the man she loved. And it was killing her.

"David," she whispered. "You have to remember me."

He raised an eyebrow, amused. And then, he begun to laugh.

"Please," she tried again, her voice breaking. "This isn't you."

"I'll be taking this one with me," David retorted, ignoring her words. "The Exterminator should be satisfied with her."

"Please!" She gasped, still trying to reason with him as she attempted to push herself to her feet. "Just let her go. She's just a kid."

Seeing her movement, David tightened his hold on Bandit's arm warningly.

"Don't follow me," David snarled at Shona; "Or I will kill her."

Shona shook her head in disbelief. "A child?" She whimpered.

He smirked. "A _rebel._"

Still smiling nastily, David, with Bandit clawing at him every step of the way, began to drag the child away from Shona and Grace, pulling her by her arm toward his waiting Ford Mustang. He whistled loudly, and then frowned when no Draculoids answered his retreat signal. It was very clear why. They had all been wiped out.

He was outnumbered, alone even, but it didn't matter. Thanks to his captive, in that moment, he had complete control.

Shona, keeping a tight hold on Grace, preventing the girl from racing after the man who had taken her best friend away, whirled round, finally spotting Ray, who had been separated from the others, and was currently grappling with a Draculoid, two more lying at his feet.

Shona suddenly understood why the Draculoids had forced the Killjoy away from her and the girls. David had been very clever.

"_Jet Star!"_

Shona's blood-curdling cry ripped through the air, and also through Ray, and he looked up sharply. He had succeeded in stylishly removing the Draculoids that had surrounding them and was just finishing the last of with a blast wound to it's chest when he saw Shona gesturing madly at him and Grace holding onto the woman tightly, tears streaming down her face. Looking in the direction Shona was pointing, Ray's heart literally stopped when he saw Bandit, dismay coursing through him when he saw her tear stained face as she looked directly at him, still continuing her fight. She was screaming for his help, as she was bundled onto the rear seat of the suped up Ford Mustang.

"No!" Ray moaned, as if he couldn't accept what was happening. And then, realisation dawning on him, he shouted, "STOP!" David glanced at him, giving him a look of a pure contempt, and then a cold smile spread across his handsome features. Slamming the door on Bandit, he tore round the car, throwing up the driver's door, and leaping into the car. Ray shoved the dead Draculoid out of his way, and then broke into a run, his ray gun clutched in his right hand, haring after the departing Ford. "No! Bandit!"

The car roared off just as Ray almost caught up, as if David had been toying with him. The Killjoy, not wanting to give up, quickened his pace, still desperately trying to chase after it. Despite his efforts, the car was suddenly hurrying away, it's precious prisoner trapped in the back, banging her little fists against the window, still screaming Jet Star's name. The Mustang was soon out of reach, leaving the devastated rebels, and dust and sand whipped up from the screeching tyres, in it's wake.

Ray could do nothing, and he knew it. He stopped his pointless chase, eyes widened and breathing harsh as he gazed at the disappearing vehicle. He covered his face with his hands and let out an agonised cry, the pain and loss he carried within him finally breaking through. He cried out Bandit's name as he slipped to his knees, striking the ground repeatedly with his fists. Shona, still with Grace in her arms, kept away from him, at a loss at what they could possibly say to help him in that horrible moment.

He's had one last link to the life, and to the people, he had loved.

And he'd lost her.

XXX

Saint Jimmy had his customary smirk plastered on his face as the BL/Ind. transporter roared through Zone One, bearing down on their destination. Billie Joe sat beside his one time friend, staring straight ahead, the agonies of Jimmy's recent attack on him causing his body to tremble slightly as he could do nothing but sit there and wait.

"Nearly there," Jimmy slurred, and then offered Billie a cruel smile. "It will all be over soon, Billie-Boy."

"Yo will let the others go, won't you, Jim?" Billie replied softly, refusing to look at the other man. "Mike? Gerard, Frank and Bob? You promised me..."

Jimmy chuckled nastily, and the sound made the former singer cringe.

"They haven't done anything to you, Jimmy;" Billie muttered, pushing further, desperate to get the answer he craved. "This isn't about them. You don't-"

Jimmy, snarling, suddenly struck, grabbing Billie by his hair and ripping his head back. Billie gasped in discomfort, his eyes wide and fearful, locked on to his tormentor's.

"You don't know anything about me, Armstrong. You never did. You think you can't trust me? Well, _you're _the one, you and your little rebel friends, that found this weapon and planned to use it against thousands of-"

"We didn't!" Billie argued. "We didn't plan to use it-"

"You're a fucking liar. You make me sick, do you know that? I can't believe I ever looked up to you. Look at the state of you! What the fuck are you now? My broken little whore, used and ruined. You don't know me anymore; what I want, or what I'm capable of, so why don't you just sit there and _shut the fuck up _before I make you?"

Billie let out a low sob, inwardly cursing himself for his weakness. He managed a painful nod, and then moaned when Jimmy released him, knocking his head forward and causing another whimper from the small man, as the sudden pain shot through him once more.

"The whole world centres around you, doesn't it?" Jimmy snarled at him. "You're a fucking joke, Billie Joe."

Billie glanced at him, felt the unadulterated hate coming off of the other man in waves, so had to avert his eyes. He knew that Jimmy hated him, could even understand why, but the pure viciousness aimed at him from a man he once considered like a younger brother was becoming too much for him to deal with. He was so tired, so weak. Jimmy hadn't just attacked his body back in that room, he'd clawed away at Billie Joe's very soul and Billie knew he was broken. He didn't know what the other man had in store for him and in some ways, he couldn't bring himself to care. The memories of Jimmy's hands on him, feeling him pushing into him, claiming him as he just laid there and took it, were so raw and so painful, that he wanted it all just to end, one way or another. If only he could guarantee his friends safety before it was all over.

If only Jimmy would keep his promise.

The monotone voice of the Draculoid driving the vehicle brought Billie abruptly out of his musings.

"We are approaching the co-ordinates the rebel provided, Sir."

St Jimmy smiled. "Good. Get us as close as you can. Then the rebel will lead us straight to the weapon."

"Understood, Sir."

Jimmy shot Billie a sideways glance, and curled his lip when he saw the man he once adored above all others covering his face with his hands, in despair.

Jimmy laughed coldly at him. Billie didn't react. He didn't see the point.

The transporter came to a steady stop. "We're here!" Jimmy announced, his eyes twinkling. He was practically euphoric. He threw open the door and climbed out, gesturing for the Draculoids in the front to do the same. He then strolled round to the other side of the vehicle, pulled open the other door, got a grip on Billie's jacket, and dragged him out of the BL/Ind. van, throwing him unceremoniously to the ground, causing the older man to cry out from the harsh treatment.

Jimmy grinned cruelly down at Billie, then gripped him by his hair, forcing him to his feet.

"Where is it?" He spat.

Billie screwed his eyes up tightly.

"I-" He stuttered. "Y'know, I'm not-"

He cried out when Jimmy tightened his hold.

"If you fuck with me, Armstrong, I'll make you watch as we tear the skin off of Mike fucking Dirnt, one piece at a time. Do you get me?"

Billie writhed in his grasp, the pain become too much. He was fighting back tears.

"Please, Jimmy-"

St Jimmy ignored his pleas, instead shoving him forward. The stricken man once more fell to his knees and this time, Jimmy allowed him to stay there.

"Show me where the fucking weapon is, Billie Joe." He demanded. "Now."

Billie, shame coursing through him, was forced to crawl forward, gritting his teeth with the effort. He dragged his broken body forward a few feet, slumping down, exhausted. He glanced back at Jimmy, and nodded.

"It's buried here," Billie whispered.

Jimmy's mouth twitched. "Great," he noted. "So dig."

Billie stared at him. Part of him actually hoped that Jimmy was joking. He could hardly move because of what the bastard had done to him. How was he now supposed to dig? And what the fuck was he digging _with_?

"I don't have-"

Jimmy shrugged. "Not my problem." He cut in, sounding bored. "You didn't say we'd need any tools, I don't think? Use your hands."

Billie Joe closed his eyes. As he moved to obey, scooping up the sand with his bare hands, and shovelling it to one side, he knew this was his own fault. He'd seen the good in St Jimmy so long ago, had had the chance to bring that out and change the path the man had followed, but he had let him down, and now he was getting his just deserts. Jimmy had already taken Tre, and Billie's dignity, all that was left now was his life.

He thought of Mike, of the Killjoys, of everyone who depended on him.

He was letting them all down, he knew that, by surrendering. But he had nothing left of himself to give.

He moaned and panted as he worked, forcing the sand aside, trying to recall just how deep Doctor Death Defying had buried the container and finally, at long last, he felt metal, not sand, beneath his fingers.

He looked up at Jimmy. "Found it," he muttered.

Billie suddenly found himself swept aside once again, sent tumbling to the ground, where he was happy to stay. Jimmy was barking orders to the Draculoids, instructing them to do the rest of the work, and in no time at all, the silver container was out of it's hole in the sand and clasped in St Jimmy's grip, and he was holding it aloft like a trophy, beaming down at the exhausted Billie Joe.

"Guess this means I win?"

Billie looked up at him. Something small, a tiny spark of defiance, flared up within him and his eyes flamed. "Open it then. Why don't we go together?"

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. "You'd love that, wouldn't you? Sorry Billie, no heroic last minute suicidal effort from you, I'm afraid." He carried the weapon, the box that contained the capsule that could have wiped out the entire City in a matter of hours, back to the Transporter. Billie watched him go, wondering if he was going to take the virus back to the City. He soon got his answer when Jimmy pulled out a device, pressed a couple of buttons, and Billie saw, to his growing dread, that the machine was a bomb.

St Jimmy sauntered back over to him, placing the container back onto the sand, together with the explosives. He winked at Billie as he proceeded to set the bomb. "Eight minutes should give us time to get far enough away," he mused, more to himself and flicked a switch. The bomb sprang into life.

Billie furrowed his brow in confused. "What are you going to do? Blow the virus up? You'll send it into the air, and the explosion won't help. Anyone in the Zones will be infected-"

"A controlled explosion, Billie," Jimmy cut across him. "This isn't just any bomb, it's designed to contain a virus to a certain area. I don't wanna kill any innocent people, unlike you."

"We buried the virus," Billie said, in a tiny voice. "We weren't going to use it."

"Bullshit," Jimmy snapped. "You could have destroyed it, but you buried it instead."

Billie hung his head. "We'd have used it as a bargaining tool, just to stop your fucking company from brainwashing any more of the world. We didn't want to hurt anyone."

Jimmy smirked. "Don't you worry, Billie. Apart from a few unimportant scavenger gangs, this place is deserted; we did a full check. This virus will burn itself out in the deadly atmosphere out here before it can do any harm." He leaned closer. "Anyone stupid enough to wander into the blast isn't really our problem, is it?" A cruel smile. "Plus, their deaths would be on your hands, not ours."

The thought of that terrified Billie. He had argued against using the weapon, he had wanted them to dispose of it, but had been overruled. And now, he was the one about to pay.

Jimmy hit one last button, and the bomb sparked into life.

"No ticking sound?" Jimmy mused. "I'm disappointed.

He gestured to his drones.

"Lets get back. Leave the explosion to do its work. One of you must stay behind, just to ensure everything goes to plan."

Billie was dragged himself to his feet.

"And Mike and the others, Jimmy? What about them?"

Jimmy gave him a bored glance. "I'll see how I feel when I get back."

Billie, despite his tiredness and pain, felt a familiar rage building up inside him. "You piece of shit, Jimmy! You gave me your word!"

St Jimmy laughed at him.

"You're too trusting, _BJ_."

"Don't fucking _call _me that!"

Hate forced him on. Despite the agony, the weakness, the fact that he could hardly stand, Billie, fury and devastation fuelling him, flung himself at St Jimmy, who's eyes widened in shock when the small man made his move. He had clearly imagined Billie Joe was finished. To his mistake.

With the bomb bleeping ominously beside them, the two dark haired men grappled together on the sand, until finally, Jimmy gained the upper hand, landing hard on top of Billie and grappling with him until both of Billie's arms are trapped and his body and legs are being held down by the triumphant Jimmy. Grinning, he grabbed Billie's wrists and pinned them above his head. Billie struggled, growled and writhed, trying to unseat the smirking Jimmy, but it was useless. And time was quickly running out for them both.

Jimmy glanced over at the bomb, shouted "Prepare the transporter, time to go," to his watching guards, and then leaned closer to Billie, pressing his lips to the former front man's, kissing him possessively. Billie squirmed beneath him, still trying to buck him off, disgusted with the man's touch.

Jimmy pulled back then, took hold of Billie's head, and slammed him against the ground three times, until Billie stopped moving. Jimmy was breathing harshly, staring at his defeated enemy.

"Goodbye, Billie Joe," he muttered, and then he was off of Billie, up and running, screaming at the Draculoids to move.

"Sir, the rebel?"

Jimmy gazed at Billie's prone form, his lips twitching evilly.

"I don't need him any more," he snapped, more to himself. "I have everything I want back at the City." His eyes flamed as he added, "Leave him."

And then the Draculoids, sans one, and their Exterminator were climbing back into their vehicle and slamming the doors, and the vehicle was pulling away, leaving Billie Joe where he was lying, beside the bomb, unconscious and helpless.

Leaving him to die.

Jimmy smiled.

_'Perfect.'_

XXX

It was too hot to think. That was the overwhelming feeling for Michael as he and his new friends made their way across the desert. Every muscle, every limb, was hurting more than Michael could have believed possible. He had nearly run out of water, and didn't dare ask his companions if they could spare any. What right did he have to do so? It was his company's fault that they had been trapped out in the Zones, living like rats in the desert. They owed him nothing. One thing had become very clear. Had he not discovered them when he had done, Michael was under no illusions that he would have been long finished. Bob had tried to warn him, had tried to prepare him, but he hadn't listened. Of course he hadn't. Typical Better Living arrogance.

But only now he was actually able to see it.

They had made good time across the Zone, Leon had informed them. He felt that they were on course to arrive at the rebel base before night fell. If not, they would have to set up anothercamp and Michael could tell that the thought made Leon fearful. Of course Michael knew why. Leon wasn't certain that they would all survive the night and Michael agreed. Even if they all helped each other, none of them were strong enough, alert enough to deal with another night in that desert, not out in the open. Maybe they would get lucky and find an abandoned building to settle in, but Michael doubted it. And Leon's worsening mood confirmed this for him.

Michael glanced over his shoulder and saw Viper, Skull and Jex bringing up the rear, creating a gulf between them and the rest of the group. A gulf in more than just meters. Michael knew what Viper's problem was. How could he forget? He was the problem. And Viper was just waiting for an opportunity to catch Michael out, to turn the tables on him and once more voice his doubts. Michael would not give him that chance. He was nearly there, nearly at the base, and once he was there, he would never have to deal with Viper and his friends again.

"James?"

Michael turned to find Electra watching him, smiling gently.

"You okay?" He asked her, returning the smile.

She nodded, and then held out her water flask. "You look like you need a drink, and you don't have enough left of your own supplies."

He frowned. "How did you-"

"I saw you drinking a while ago and your bottle was nearly empty then." She gave him a knowing look. "I put two and two together after that and figured you'd be nearly out."

Michael chuckled and glanced down. "You're a smart girl."

Her eyes shone. "You know it!" She paused, and then shook the flask lightly. "Go on, take some. You're not used to the Zones and you need it."

Michael shook his head firmly. "It's yours. I don't want to take from you-"

"I'm offering," Electra retorted, pushing her long blond hair behind her ears; "So, if you look at it from my point of view, it's more insulting if you refuse my kind offer, isn't it?" She grinned.

Michael couldn't help himself. Her sweet persona was infectious. Giving her a weary smile, he took her flask, and poured some of the wonderful liquid down his quenched throat. He then handed it back to her, for her to give him a flirtatious wink.

He laughed, and then gave her a quiet, "Thank you."

"Anytime."

And then, she was turning her back on him and returning to Johan, who was watching her with a raised eyebrow. Leon was also looking on, with some amusement.

"What?" Electra enquired. "He's cute!"

Michael wasn't surprised by her forwardness. He laughed again, and shook his head incredulously. She was young, and foolish in some ways, but he liked her. She had heart, and her own mind. Looking at her, he understood why the rebels he had once abhorred fought so hard to keep their free will.

He couldn't help but wonder. Had he once fought to hold on to who he had been before? Before they had made him their puppet?

When he had been the Killjoy, Kobra Kid?

"Nice," came a gruff voice from behind him, and Michael instantly tensed.

"What is it now, Viper?" He asked, not even bothering to hide his dislike any longer.

Viper, his flunkies on either side, smirked. "What's the matter, Jamie?" He spat. "Dropping the act?"

Michael leaned in closer. "No act needed where you're concerned, trust me. I really do not like you."

Viper licked his lips. "Likewise."

They stood like that for a moment, each sizing the other man up, before Michael crossed his arms over his chest and snapped, "Did you want something?"

Viper leered at him, looking Michael up and down, causing him to squirm. "Yeah," he drawled. "I want to know what your game is." He reached out, and stroked Michael's face with his finger. "There's something about you, James. Something _special_..."

Michael pulled away, disgusted. "You fucking touch me again, and I'll-"

"Touch you?" Viper threw back his head and laughed. "I really wanna touch you, Pretty. Tell me, what will you do to stop me?"

Michael, breathing hard, glared hatefully back at the taunting man, his hand on his hips, grazing the ray gun resting under his belt. It would be so simple for him to grab his gun and blast all three of the hated men away. Every instinct was telling him to do it, to show his authority and destroy those that opposed him. But he couldn't do it. He wouldn't do it. That was the BL/Ind. way. Not his way. Not anymore.

So, fighting to contain his temper, he edged away, his eyes boring into Viper's. "I'm not gonna give you the satisfaction," he muttered. "You sonofabitch."

Viper's eyes flamed. "Don't fuck with me, boy."

"What is your _problem_?" Michael hissed. "Why don't you just tell me?"

There was a pause. "You wanna know?" Viper answered, his tone quiet but laced with danger. "You wanna know why I don't trust anybody anymore?" He took another step forward. "You wanna know what BL/Ind. did to me?"

"Yeah," Michael retorted, at once. "I really wanna know."

The others stood by, watching their leader uncertainly, waiting for him to respond.

Before he could though, there was a loud scream, and the three men turned in the direction of the noise, all taken aback by the unexpected cry. As they listened, they heard some shouting, and then a ray gun blast. As Michael began to take off toward the sound of the trouble, Viper suddenly hauled him back by his arm, and snarled in his ear: "Go on then, run off and be a hero."

Michael threw him a deadly look, and then jerked his arm away from the hated man. He then broke into a run, rushing to catch up with the others. After rounded a stone wall, part of a building long since wrecked, he came across a trembling Electra kneeling on the ground, being comforted by both Johan and Leon. His eyes moved to take in the crumpled body of a Draculoid, lying spreadeagled on the ground, a blast wound still smoking from his chest, his mask ripped off and thrown aside, revealing the face of a young man. Michael walked over to the dead drone carefully, leaned over the dead boy, and moved his hand to close the lad's eyelids. No matter what he had done under the instructions of the company, he had been a person once, and therefore deserved respect.

Michael then rose back up to his full height and, with his ray gun steady in his hand, he eyed the others, who were now watching him. Johan, in particular, was glaring at him with suspicion.

"Did you feel sorry for the Drac or something?" He spat.

Michael frowned. "You saw for yourself. He was just a kid, most of the drones are. He's dead and gone. What harm did it do?"

"He nearly killed Electra!"

Michael gave Johan a cold stare. "Yeah, and he deservedly paid for that with his life. He lost, you won. Can't you be satisfied with that?"

Johan glared angrily back. Suddenly, Leon was between them, bringing an end to the frosty confrontation.

"What was it doing here?" He enquired, jerking his head toward the dead Draculoid. "And why just the one? Draculoids always move in packs."

Michael blinked. Leon had raised an interesting point, and he was quite right. BL/Ind would never send one Drac into the zones alone. There were always patrols. Re-programming was an expensive business, the corporation wouldn't simply waste their drones lives, and they would know that to send just one was basically sending that drone to their death.

There was definitely more to this.

"I don't know," Michael answered Leon truthfully. And then, a thought struck him. "Maybe he wasn't send out here, but left behind..."

"Why?" Johan cut in, his tone demanding.

Before Michael could answer, Leon held up a hand, quieting them all. He moved forward cautiously, making his way carefully to the other side of the wall. Once he was clear of the obstruction, he gasped, and then called out for Michael, waving him forward.

Within a moment, Michael, with Johan and Electra right behind him, was at Leon's side, and his eyes widened at the sight before him.

It was a small area, but it had certainly seen a lot of activity, apparently very recently. There was a machine placed in the centre of the clearing, and it was ominously active, bleeping to itself, and lights flashing periodically. It didn't take him long to recognise the device: It was a bomb, and it had been set to explode. The machine had been placed in a glass casket, which Michael assumed was to contain the blast, and laying beside the casket was a crumpled figure, face down on the ground. Michael could see that the figure was a man and judging by his clothes, a rebel. He was alone, evidently the only casualty from whatever fight had gone on there. There had been no Draculoid losses, he noted.

Michael shook his head. Leon saw that he was troubled, and glanced at him. "What's wrong? What do you think happened here?"

"No idea," Michael replied. "But we need to keep our distance. That's a bomb, and whatever the plan was, that device exploding was important enough for BL/Ind to leave behind a guard to make sure no one wandered across it-"

"Like we did." Johan cut across him, and Michael frowned, but then nodded.

"Exactly." He agreed. He rubbed at his chin. "I don't like this though. We're missing something..."

And then, as he stared at the scene before him, he suddenly let out a low gasp. The man was moving, his chest rising and falling very gently, but Michael knew what he had seen. The man was still alive, and about to be blown to Hell.

Michael balled his hands into fists. No. That was not going to happen. Someone had left this man there to die, and Michael would not stand by and do nothing.

And then suddenly, everything was hazy. He blinked, trying to regain his focus, but it was as though he was seeing through a mist. There was a memory, something he wasn't supposed to remember, something they had locked away, but he could see it all happening before him. No, he couldn't see it, he could feel it.

Because it was happening to him.

He wasn't in the same place. Leon, Johan and Electra had disappeared. He was somewhere else, somewhere in the past. His past. And a different man had been standing close by to him, a man he recognised. A man with long curly hair...

_The explosion blew them both off of their feet, and they crashed to the ground, crying out in shock. When they turned to see, their hearts already in their mouths, they saw what was left of the building that had once been right in front of them. The building that no longer existed. Fire had engulfed the structure and the flames and smoke were billowing everywhere. Nothing could possibly have survived such a blast... _

"James! Wake up!"

Somebody was shaking him... Who was that... Who was holding him.

"Ray?"

Leon then punched him squarely in the jaw. "What is happening and who the fuck is Ray?" He demanded.

Michael gaped at him, in complete shock. He had no idea what was happening. And he had never known anyone called Ray...

"We gotta run!" Johan was shouting. "The bomb-"

Michael was suddenly back in the present, very much aware of what was occurring. He glanced to his right and saw Viper, Skull and Jex had appeared just behind him, and were all watching him closely.

"What are we going to do?" Electra hissed. "Someone answer me!"

Michael didn't hesitate. He didn't bother to tell them what his plan was, mainly because he didn't have a plan. He just knew he didn't want to know he was responsible for one mans death. He couldn't deal with that. So, he broke into a run, ignoring the cries and screams ringing in his ears as his new friends tried desperately to stop him. He could hear that others were running behind him, whether their intention was to help him, or to stop him, Michael didn't know, and he didn't care.

He ran past the injured man, knowing his first, and most pressing, task was to stop, or at least hinder, that bomb. He landed beside it, breathing hard, and saw that he only had moments left. He swore under his breath, and then instantly began to hit buttons on the control panel on the side of the casket. Four words instantly flickered up on to the screen:

"_Enter code to access."_

Chewing on his bottom lip, Michael hurriedly entered his Exterminator access code. The machine bleeped loudly, and then Michael tapped in some more codes, only praying that Saint hadn't gotten around to blocking all of his access codes. When the device suddenly switched off, all noises and lights suddenly stopping, he let out a big sigh of relief that he hadn't even realised he was holding. Knowing that he had at least bought himself some time, Michael raced to where the prone man was lying, took hold of him, and pulled him up into his arms. The man was still unconscious but, as Michael had spotted, he was still breathing, and started to come to. Michael knew, to his despair, that the man was far too weak and delirious to help himself, and his dead weight was too heavy for Michael to move without help, despite the man being small.

He knew that he wouldn't make it. Another life lost, thanks to his old company.

Hearing a sound not far away, he quickly looked up and was surprised to see Viper standing close by, watching his struggles, smiling coldly at him.

Michael suddenly felt a burst of hope. Was Viper actually trying to do the right thing?

"Viper, Help me!" Michael yelled at him. "I could only pause the timer, not abort it. We've got minutes left. Help me save this man!"

Viper only smirked at him in response. The look of triumph on his face made Michael's blood run cold.

All Michael could do was look back helplessly, his arms underneath the rebel, trying to lift him.

"Help me!" He yelled, trying one more time. But he knew it was pointless. Viper wasn't there to help him, or the innocent rebel in his arms. Viper had followed him over there to help himself.

"How did you know the override code to the device?" Viper called back.

Michael could only gape at him, his panic increasing. How much had the bastard seen? Michael had never felt so helpless. He didn't know what to say.

As he watched, Viper's taunting smile slowly faded, and was replaced with anger.

Catching him unawares, a hand was suddenly on Michael's shoulder, and he started in shock. Looking round, he saw that Leon had arrived beside him, helping him to lift the rebel, and trying to force the dead Draculoid's mask into his free hand.

"Put this on!" The older man demanded.

Michael frowned, indicating that hurt rebel was the priority but Leon shook his head firmly. "Put the mask on right now," he urged him. "Do it, or you'll die."

Michael stared at him momentarily, and then pulled the mask on. Together, the two men, dragging the rebel between them, took off after the fleeing Viper as quickly as they could. They stumbled, the rebel falling to the ground when Michael was forced to release him, and he swore loudly. He met Leon's helpless gaze, and knew what the older man was thinking. They weren't going to make it...

"We don't have long enough-"

"Keep going!" Leon gasped. "Come on..."

And then, someone else was there, pulling Billie away from Michael, relieving the pressure, and enabling him to pull himself and Leon on. He turned his head slightly to see Johan, who had picked the small rebel up, and was stumbling along. They were moving as fast as they could... they had no idea if it was far enough.

He heard a noise coming from the device, a loud clicking sound, and he knew what it meant.

"GET DOWN!"

And then all three of them flung themselves to the ground, Johan forcing the rebel down with him, covering him with his own body.

The explosion ripped through Michael, deafening him as the men all cowered together. They laid there, their hands over their heads, realising with some relief that they were all still in one piece. Michael rose up first, looking back at what had once been the small clearing, seeing that there was nothing left. He placed a hand on Leon's back, and Leon reacted to the touch, turning quickly, gasping for breath.

"Shit..." He whispered, shaking his head at the destruction the blast had caused. "How did we survive that?"

"We were lucky," Michael admitted.

"Too fucking right."

Michael quickly looked toward the injured rebel, who Johan had laid out onto his back, and was now checking carefully. "How is he?" He asked, quickly.

"He's alive," Johan replied. He didn't look at Michael. "We need to get him some help though. Fast."

"Have to get back to the others." Leon noted. "Electra has first aid supplies in her pack."

Johan nodded. He then gave Michael a quick glare, before adding; "I'm gonna check they're okay."

Michael took a step forward. "Thanks for your help, Johan.

Johan paused. "Not a problem," he said, softly, and then gave Leon a knowing look as he walked past him.

Leon was unclasping Billie's jacket with shaky fingers, frowning at the injuries he was revealing. Michael stood by, watching. Both men remained in silence, unsure what to say to the other.

Finally, Michael cleared his throat. "Shall I take the mask off, now?"

Leon hesitated, then replied. "Yeah, the danger's gone."

Michael frowned, and then pulled off his mask, throwing it down to the ground. He then looked toward Leon once more.

"What danger did you mean? Why did you get me to wear it?"

Leon swallowed, glancing away from Michael for a moment. Finally, he met his gaze once more. "I knew that casket was carrying a virus," he told him, quietly, still trying to catch his breath. "And I knew that it would be deadly to anyone who had a large amount of Bl/Ind. drugs in their system. I'm guessing that explosion was to clear the virus out of the air." Breathing hard, he titled his head. "I got the impression that you'd taken their drugs in the last 48 hours. Right?"

Michael looked down at his feet, and then nodded.

"You know the hurt man, don't you?" He asked Leon, he looked up sharply, and then nodded.

"He's an old friend."

Michael saw the flicker of pain on Leon's face and knew he couldn't press him for anything more about the rebel. That was obviously a difficult subject for the older man. After an uncomfortable pause, Michael changed the conversation slightly. "How did you know it was a virus?"

Leon threw him a cold look. "I'll answer the rest of your questions later." He eyed Michael closely. "And maybe you can answer a few of mine." He gave him a wiry smile. "For example, I don't think you were just aDraculoid inthat city, were you?"

"Exactly what I want to know!"

They both looked up quickly, and saw that the rest of the gang were stalking towards them.

"How did you know that code?" Viper was shouting, a real ugliness to his tone. "I saw you!"

"What code?" Michael asked, innocently.

Viper lunged for him. Johan grabbed for Viper and pulled him away.

"You're a fucking liar!" The furious man screamed at Michael.

Michael was able and ready for a fight, that was clear. But before Viper had a chance to go for him again, Leon had suddenly placed himself inbetween them, and pointing to a small secluded clearing a few meters away. "Why don't you take yourself off, James, just for a while? Give me a chance to speak to the other guys, and you can calm yourself down."

Michael blinked. "What about the hurt rebel? I wanna-"

"I'll look after him."

Viper was gaping at Leon. "What the fuck are-"

"Enough!" Leon snapped. He turned back to Michael. "Go now, James. Have a break, cool off. We'll be waiting here for you when you get back."

Michael's gaze fell on Electra and she quickly looked away. He felt pained, knowing he had lost her, and obviously Johan's, faith in him. He gave Leon a quick nod, and then he walked away, his hands deep in his pockets. He felt unsafe, worried. He should have realised that Viper would have followed him, not to help him in any way naturally. All Viper wanted was a chance to prove his theories, and that was exactly what Michael had given him. But what choice did he have? He'd chosen right, and saved a man's life.

Just what result that decision would have for him in the long run, he didn't know. He knew one thing though, he would never come to regret rescuing that rebel.

Leon watched as Michael walked across the desert, disappearing out of sight. He frowned, and then nodded, satisfied with Michael's promise that he wouldn't go too far.

"He'll run," Johan announced. "We'll never see him again."

"He said he'll be back," Leon said, firmly.

"And you believe him?" Johan questioned, incredulously.

"Yeah, I do."

Leon swiftly noted that this was not a view shared by the rest of his gang. They were all staring at him as if he had taken leave of their senses.

"What?" Leon asked them, annoyed. "Electra, I need your backpack. Billie has some nasty burns and cuts here," he looked over the unconscious man, his face darkening as he took in his injuries; "I need the healing cream, and any pain reliever pills we've got left..."

Electra glanced at Johan, who was looking at Leon with confusion.

"You gonna just let him go?" He asked, softly. "You don't wanna ask him what happened?"

Leon threw Johan a cold look. "Why should I? I've gotta see to Billie first, anyway." He gave Electra an impatient glance. "Electra! Your backpack, now!"

Before she could move, or even any of the others could speak, Viper marched right up to Leon and leaned down over him.

"We need to talk, Leon." He demanded.

"Can't you see that I'm busy," Leon told him, curtly. "This guy needs help-"

"I don't care about some dying rebel!" Viper stormed. "How did James stop that bomb from exploding?"

"He didn't," Electra said softly; "Or didn't you notice the pretty big-assed explosion?"

Viper gave her a horrible glare, and then turned his attention back to Leon.

"Paused the bomb then; either way, ain't no Draculoid in the world that would have access to codes like that."

"And you're suddenly an expert on all things Better Living Industries, are you?"

Viper glowered. "No, I'm not. But I know a liar when I see one, and I've always known that there was more to James than you were willing to ask-"

"I'll deal with James," Leon barked, irritation to his tone. "Leave him to me."

Viper stepped closer. "I don't think so." The tension in the air was palpable, and all the others were now watching their power struggle them intently. "Give him to me," Viper hissed. "I'll get answers out of him..."

"I said I'd deal with it." Leon snapped, at once. "I told you I want you to leave James alone, Viper, and I meant it."

"You can't trust him!" Viper retorted. "He's already lied to us-"

"I don't want to hear this," Leon bit back, moving away from Billie Joe momentarily, and waving Viper's arguments away. "So _leave it._"

"Listen to me Leon," Viper grabbed viciously at the other man, pulling him closer. "You're can't ignore this. We need to know who he is! Just fucking _listen_!"

"I said, no!" Leon shoved Viper back, forcing him away. Just managing to stay on his feet, Viper, teeth gritted, was now staring at the older man with such hatred, that he looked ready to kill. Before Johan and Electra could react, Skull and Jex were suddenly there, holding him back, stopping him from doing something all of them would regret.

Not attempting to hide the contempt in his face, Leon eye-balled Viper coldly. "If you wanna stay with this group, _buddy, _you'll do as I tell you." He jabbed at Viper with his finger. "You got that?"

Viper shook slightly, and his friends tightened their hold on him. "Are you threatening me?"

Leon glowered. "I think I am. We _need_ James. Do you get that? We need to get James to that base, for all of our sakes. If it comes down to a straight choice between you going or him, then I'd choose you every single time..."

Viper stopped, taken aback for a moment. "You'd choose me?"

Leon nodded. "Yeah, I'd choose you..." After a pause, he grabbed Viper by his jacket, and snarled furiously at him:

"To go." He released Viper and stepped away. "So take the fucking hint, and _back off of James_!"

And with one last warning look, Leon turned and walked back to Billie Joe, kneeling down beside him. He gestured to Electra, and she moved quickly to assist him, pausing to pick up her backpack and supplies. After a brief moment of indecision, and a curious glance toward Viper and the others, Johan followed.

Viper watched them for a moment, his eyes flaming. He then wrestled his arms free of Skull and Jex, and then stormed away from them, leaving Leon and the others behind. The brothers hurried after him, sensibly keeping their distance, considering their friend's humiliation.

Viper didn't look at them. He gazed, red faced, at Leon, his eyes narrowing further as he saw a cautious James approaching, and Leon allowing him to aid him in tending to the injured rebel. _Such good friends... _Viper snorted. It was vomit-inducing to witness. The old fool was leading them all to their deaths, including the new rebel that suddenly seemed so damn important; he was just so desperate for them all to get out of the Zones and into that base, he'd believe anything. Well, Viper wasn't so easily tricked. He knew what he had seen. That had been a high level code James had used to gain entry to that device. No Draculoid what have the level access codes, even the most senior drones. They were still drones after all, servants. Whatever position James had held in that company, he was no Draculoid.

Viper would find out the truth. No matter what it took.

Finding a nasty taste in his mouth, he spat down in the sand. Enough was enough. He had followed orders, been a good, obedient boy and had played the game Leon's way, and look where it had gotten them all. They had allowed a BL/Industries spy to slip right in. No, it was worse than that. They had invited him in, and now he was pulling strings.

He was laughing at them, and no doubt leading them to capture, or death.

Leon was blinded. He wanted them to be saved so badly, he refused to see the truth.

Well, _fuck Leon_. He was no longer fit to lead them.

And now, Viper would do things _his _way.

XXX

Jimmy was speeding through the Zones, his small patrol of Draculoids following him closely. He had felt very little when he'd seen, and heard, the explosion behind him. As far as he was concerned, all of his problems were over. The weapon had been dealt with, and the mess left behind would be cleared up by a Draculoid team once any remaining threat had dispersed in the lethal Zone atmosphere. But the feeling of satisfaction Jimmy was experiencing wasn't anything to do with successfully completing his task, it was due to the removal of the man that had caused him more heartache than any other in the life. The man he had put on a pedestal and looked up to as his idol. The man that had left him for dead. Billie Joe Armstrong was dead, and could thankfully haunt Jimmy no longer. He was free of him at last, and could put all the bad memories behind him.

Billie Joe was finished. Now, Jimmy would look to the future. In doing so, he would turn his attention to what _he_ wanted, and what _he_ deserved.

And what he deserved was happiness.

He smiled coldly. He would have Frank Iero, no matter what it took, or cost. Frank would be his. He thought of the youngest Killjoy, and was perturbed to find he had a nervous flutter in his stomach. Frank made him feel more than anger and hatred. Frank had never hurt him, or let him down. To the contrary, Frank had saved his life, preventing Gerard Way from killing Jimmy when he had had the chance. That act was the one moment of kindness Jimmy could remember since, well, since the bombs fell, and probably even earlier. All of Jimmy's respect and love had been wasted on Billie Joe Armstrong, he could see that now. Frank though, Frank was a different matter entirely. And Jimmy was certain that he could get through to the Killjoy, convince him that his future was in the City with St Jimmy, not running through the Zones with Party Poison and Jet Star.

Frank had spared Jimmy once before, proving that he had feelings for him. If only Jimmy could make Frank remember those feelings, he knew he could make him stay.

Gerard was his past. Frank would see that.

And if he wouldn't, well, Gerard could be removed...

The sudden buzzing of his communicator bought Jimmy out of his musings and he clenched his hands into fists, expecting that it was his Draculoid guards back at the City contacting him to advise that his hostages had foolishly attempted to escape. He would punish them all for their stupidity...

"Report!" He barked.

"_Exterminator Saint?"_ Came the nervous reply. _"This is David, Sir. I've been trying to reach you."_

Jimmy paused, momentarily put out by the unexpected voice. After a second, he remembered the mission he had sent the one-time resistance fighter on before all the chaos with Gerard had begun. He had sent him to discover the rebels in the City, and to kill anyone found helping them. Jimmy now knew of course that those rebels had been Frank, Billie Joe, Mike and the other ex My Chemical Romance band member, Bob, they had called him.

Perhaps, there had been more. And perhaps David was about to give him so good news.

Something they could use against the others...

"Yes, David." He replied. "I was out of communicator range. Do you have some information for me?"

"_Yes sir."_

Jimmy smirked at the sound of the man's cold, dead voice, remembering how stubborn and strong the man had once been. Not any more.

"Well?" He queried.

"_I and a patrol followed a band of rebels through the school and out into the Zones. We ambushed them in Zone Three."_

Jimmy smiled. "Good. Are they all dead?"

There was no reply, and Jimmy's smile faded. "David? Where are the rebels now?"

After another brief pause, David finally answered him. _"All but one escaped, Sir. I have captured a girl. The Killjoy wiped my patrol out. I am the only survivor."_

Jimmy sighed. Yet more dead Draculoids that would need accounting for. Reprogramming was an expensive business. His superiors would not be impressed.

Well, at least he had something to show for the mission.

"Okay, David," he instructed. "Are you travelling on foot or do you have transport?"

"_By vehicle, sir."_

"Good. Return to the City at once."

"_As you order. And sir, the rebels seemed very concerned about the life of this child. One of them called her Bandit, and tried to come after me."_

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. "She may have some use then. I am returning to the City myself. Take her to the Detention Centre and wait for me there."

"_Yes sir."_

"And David?"

"_Yes Sir?"_

"Tell no one else about this."

"_As you order."_

Jimmy cancelled the call. He smirked to himself, amused that the once great resistance fighter had been reduced to such a bland puppet. David was his faithful servant and he would remain so until Jimmy had no further use for him.

How Jimmy would love for Gerard Way to be reduced to the same.

Staring out of the transporter window, Jimmy considered what David had reported to him. Who was this child they had captured? The girl that Michael had saved had been called Grace, Jimmy had never heard the name Bandit mentioned before. With a frown, he pressed the button on his communicator once more, and the emotionless female voice of the Citadel Central Computer System, CCCS, instantly answered him.

"_How can I be of service?"_

"Personal information of rebels required." He answered, rubbing at the glass in the window with his forefinger distractedly.

"_Personal Information relating to rebel groups are restricted to Officials only. Please give code to continue."_

"Ex-SevenSixSeven-RelaycodeTwo." Jimmy snapped impatiently, and then waited. After a few moments, the computer responded to him.

"_Code accepted. Awaiting instructions, Exterminator Saint."_

Jimmy leaned back in his seat. "Advise information." He told it. "I wish to know all the history you have stored relating to the immediate family of the members of the rebel team known as the 'Killjoys.'"

There was a whiring sound as the computer processed his request. Finally, it stated in it's robotic tones:

"_Members of Killjoys. Leader: Party Poison, real name Gerard Way. Brother of Mikey Way. Husband of Lindsey Way (deceased). Father of Bandit Way. (Location unknown.) Kobra Kid is brother of..._"

Jimmy had stopped listening. He had heard everything he had needed to know. Could this be a huge coincidence? It was possible but Bandit was not a very common name. And her location was not registered with the company. What if Gerard had sent his wife and child away, knowing that that BL/Ind. would be coming after them all? David had said the child seemed very important to the rebels – what if they had known who she was?

Jimmy smiled evilly.

_'There's my leverage'_

This day was getting better and better...

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

**Hi all, sorry to keep you waiting again. This was quite a tough one to write. Still not sure I'm completely satisfied with it but its the best I could do! Enjoy!**

**Usual warnings guys, violence and swearing...**

**The next chapter won't take me so long, I've already planned it.**

**Hope you like this! Please let me know! Big hugs!**

**Purifying Flame**

**Chapter 10**

It was turning dark.

The gang had set up another camp, and lit a fire, which Electra and Leon were sat beside as they treated a still unconscious Billie Joe. They had had no choice but to set up camp for one more night, after Leon had pointed out that it would not be safe to move Billie until the healing drugs had kicked in, especially at night.

Electra and Leon were tending to the injured rebel. Michael was sitting slightly away from them, working on the communicator that he had taken from the dead Draculoid. The machine was making a bleeping noise, and Michael was frowning slightly as he attempted to rewire it.

"Dammit!" Michael swore, and then dragged his hand through his hair, his annoyance obvious.

Johan, marching up and down, a cigarette in between his lips, had been distrustful of Michael since he had showed sympathy for the dead Draculoid, something Johan could simply not understand, and he glowered over at him, eying him suspiciously. When Michael swore yet again, and muttered to himself, Johan could hold back no longer. Tossing his cigarette away, he walked over to Michael, his hands balled into fists.

"What are you doing with that?"

Michael, grimacing slightly at Johan's tone, looked up, his face hardening. "Trying to get a signal. What does it look like?"

Johan's frown deepened. "And who are you trying to contact?"

"If you don't trust me, just say so." Michael retorted, tired and not needing the crap at that moment. "Don't hold back."

They heard a cough from nearby and both men looked up to see Leon giving Johan a frosty glare. The older man stood, gestured for Electra to keep an eye on Billie Joe before moving up to Johan, his anger with the boy evident on his face.

"Johan, why don't you and Electra go and find the others. I don't want them out after dark. Get going, and be back within the hour, while we still have some light."

"Leon, I only wanted to-"

"Do as I asked, Johan."

Johan opened his mouth, ready to argue further, but then saw the look on Leon's face, and shut it again.

With a growl of "fine," he then stomped away, throwing Michael a vicious look as he went past him. Electra seemed unsure at what she should do for a moment, and then hurried after Johan, muttering that she should assist her friend.

There was a long, uncomfortable pause before Leon finally let out a heavy sigh, and after checking quickly on the peaceful looking Billie Joe, he walked over and sat beside Michael. Michael, frowning, placed the transmitter down, giving himself a break from his work, and pulled out his water flask, taking a small swig.

"How is he?" He asked Leon.

"Billie should be awake soon," Leon replied. "His fever has broken, as they say. And thanks to the BL/I healing medicines, he should be fine."

Michael nodded. "That's good." After a brief pause, he asked; "Who is he?"

Leon hesitated for a second, before replying; "He's a rebel, a well known one at that. He knows Doctor Death Defying well. Friendly with the Killjoys too, so I heard."

Michael's eyes widened at that. "You think he'll know me?"

Leon shrugged. "Maybe."

They sat in silence for a moment. Michael took his flask, and reached out, offering his water to Leon. The older man smiled, took the offered flask with a grateful nod, and drank. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, and then eyed Michael.

"You want to ask me something else, don't you?" He asked him softly.

Michael frowned, and then spoke, in hushed tones. "You called me by a Killjoy name earlier. Kobra Kid?"

"I did," Leon agreed. "That was your name, once."

"The man who saved me, said his name was Bob, he called me by the same name. He told me that I was a Killjoy but that was all he'd given me to go on. Can you tell me more?"

Leon frowned. "You know about the Killjoys, James. All BL/I employees have it programmed into them-"

"Everything they told me was probably lies though, right?" Michael retorted, his hackles rising. "Lies to make me hate the Killjoys, and want them dead. Funnily enough, Kobra Kid was cut out of the memories they gave me completely. So, I'd like to know the truth, now." He glanced away for a few seconds, before looking back. "Please?"

Leon let out a long sigh, and then nodded in agreement. "Okay, James." He leaned back, composing himself, before continuing. "The Killjoys were a rebel group, survivalists and allies of Doctor Death Defying, fighting against Better Living Industries to get "the truth" out to the people. BL/I wanted them all ghosted, sent their best Exterminator to track, find and Exterminate them." He took a quick breath. "There were four Killjoys, Party Poison, the leader, his best friends Fun Ghoul and Jet Star," he paused, glancing at Michael nervously, before going on. "And his brother, Kobra Kid."

Michael looked up quickly. "My brother. Bob told me-" He broke off, averting his eyes. "He had red hair, didn't he? The leader?"

Leon blinked. "Yes, he did."

Michael closed his eyes. The red haired man, the man he had saved. His brother. Michael wondered if he was still alive.

"What happened to the Killjoys?" Michael asked. "I mean, the others?"

"No one knows." Leon replied with a sigh. "They disappeared. I'm sorry."

Michael looked down, pain he didn't even understand growing deep within him.

"I don't remember them," he muttered, softly. "Not even my brother."

Leon passed Michael the small flask back, and then carefully eyed him. "Don't you remember anything at all of your life before you were reprogrammed?"

Michael sighed. "Flashes, images mainly." He glanced away. "I've also had dreams, it's hard. It's like I know that the memories are there, just below the surface, and I want to get to them, but I just can't find them. It hurts my head to try too hard."

Leon frowned. "Don't then. Don't force it. Probably do you more harm than good." He spoke softly, but firmly, trying to ensure that his words sunk in. "You fought off the BL/I control, broke through and disobeyed their orders and destroyed the shield they had put around your mind. You refused to be the puppet they had turned you into, created your own personality, and you need to be satisfied with that, for now."

Michael shook his head. "But it's not _me._ Not who I was before they fucked with my brain, anyway." His fists were clenched, his expression pained. "What if I never remember who I _really_ am?"

"Give it time," Leon urged, reaching out to grasp Michael's hand, but paused when the former Killjoy pulled away. "Maybe the memories will come back the longer you are free of the BL/I influence, and their drugs. Just be patient, James-"

"I hope you're right," Michael snapped, cutting him off abruptly. "This feels _wrong_, to me. Whoever I am now is not who I am supposed to be. I feel like I'm not complete."

"You'll get there." Leon assured him, his tone soothing. "Do you know how far you've come? Just to find yourself out of that fucking city and here, in the zones, free and using your own mind? Trust me, James. We'll reunite you with your rebel friends, starting with Billie Joe here, and you'll be okay. You _will_ get there."

Michael could only nod. Leon's enthusiasm was infectious but Michael was still not convinced. Leon seemed to see everything in black and white, good and bad, but Michael knew nothing was that simple. If only it could be, if only everything was as simple as the older man described. Michael was certain that Leon truly believed what he was saying. He only wished that he could believe him too...

The two men were so focused on their conversation, they didn't notice that they were no longer alone.

"_It's not all about you finding yourself again though, is it?"_

Both Michael and Leon started in surprise, and turned to see Johan standing close by, his fists clearly clenched at his side, as he stared at Michael, the usual distrust more evident on his face than ever.

Leon stood quickly. "Johan, did you find-"

"Why won't he answer my questions, Leon? What does James have to hide?"

Michael exchanged glances with Leon, and then slowly got to his feet, plunging his hands deep into his pockets, his expression grim.

"Johan, if you have something to say, just say it."

Johan's eyes flashed. "Okay then. I do have questions and lots of them. What happened when you were reprogrammed? What were you made to do as a Drac? Which sector did you work in?"

"Johan-" Leon tried to cut across the fuming young man, but Johan continued on regardless.

"How many bases did you "purge" at your master's orders? How many people did you kill. Who did you kill? Did you kill my mother and father...?"

"That's enough!" Leon shouted, and Johan broke off, his whole body shaking with too-long suppressed emotions. Electra was standing behind Johan, her hand covering her mouth, silent tears streaming down her face.

Michael was staring at Johan, at a loss of what to say. He walked up to him, slowly and carefully, and then gingerly reached out to touch the younger man's arm, wanting to comfort him somehow...

Johan didn't want to know.

"Don't you fucking touch me!" Johan yelled, recoiling away as if Michael had tried to burn him. "You're one of them! You're not a Killjoy. Even if you were once, the Killjoy you were is _dead_. The company killed him, like they killed my parents! You work for that company! _You're _BL/I. I hate you!"

"Please," Michael whispered, trying again. "Please listen to me-"

"Stay away from me!" Johan snapped. "Leon is fucking crazy to trust you. I'm not sticking around here to watch you betray him! You can both go to hell!"

And with that, he took off, without looking back. He ran across the sand as fast as his feet could carry him, desperate to get away. Electra stood watching after him for a moment, trying to contain her tears. She glanced over at Leon, before her gaze also fell on Michael. She shook her head sadly, and then rushed off after Johan, calling out for him in desperation.

Michael and Leon stood side by side, watching them go. Michael cast his eyes to the man beside him. "Don't you want to go after them?"

"Yes," Leon said quietly. "But I can't leave Billie Joe. If I do, he could die and I'm not having that on my conscience today." Without another word, Leon went to sit beside the prone Billie once more, and took his hand. Only the stern frown on his face betrayed his true feelings, and Michael couldn't help but feel guilty.

"I'm sorry-" He began, but Leon interrupted him.

"Don't worry about it."

"But your team, your friends-"

Leon looked up, and fixed Michael with a cold stare.

"You're a Killjoy, James. And you need help. That's good enough for me. If they can't get past what you were forced to be, then that's their problem. I'm getting you to that base, even if it kills me."

He looked away then, his full attention once more taken up by Billie Joe.

Michael knew there was nothing more he could say or do. Johan and Electra had made their choices, Leon had made his. He returned to his task of repairing the Draculoid communicator, the only thing he could do to help Leon and Billie Joe.

And maybe, just maybe, to help himself.

XXX

There was a cold, icy silence in St Jimmy's private quarters in the city, where two Killjoys, an ex drummer and one remaining member of Green Day waited, anticipating the news from their captor that none of them truly wanted to hear.

It was over an hour since St Jimmy had left, taking Billie Joe with him. Those that remained had been kept in that one room, surrounded by glass walls, in Jimmy's entrance hall, for the whole time. The four men's patience had expired a long time previously, and their conversations had also dried up. Gerard had been staring into space since Bob's announcement that Mikey was actually alive, and alone, out in the zones at that moment. Gerard had angrily questioned his old drummer further, and had freaked out at the discovery that Mikey was not only alone, but also had no idea about his past and therefore was very unlikely to have any experience in surviving out in the Zones by himself. Frank had done his best to reassure his boyfriend, telling him that Mikey was resourceful and smart, and had always been able to deal with anything thrown at him.

And now, Gerard was staring at his boyfriend with narrowed eyes.

He cleared his throat, and then spoke up, softly. "He's not Mikey anymore though, is he, Frank?"

Frank could find no answer to this comment. Bob, however, after a short pause, had something to say.

"Don't worry yourself, Gee. Trust us, Exterminator Michael is just as resourceful as Mikey was." There was clear scorn in his voice as he regarded his former friend, and added; "Especially when it comes to killing his friends..."

There was a stunned pause, and then Gerard was moving across the room abruptly, making straight for Bob, who held his ground. Just as Gerard was about to reach Bob, Mike had jumped to his feet and leaped in between the two old friends, shoving Gerard backwards. The Killjoy leader, his eyes flaming, turned his full fury onto Mike then, who grabbed him by his surgical robe, still the only clothing Gerard had been given to wear, and dragged him closer.

"You want to lose it, Gerard?" He snarled into the younger man's face. "You want to have a panic attack because your little brother is out in the desert on his own? Fine. But keep it to your fucking self, okay?"

Gerard eye-balled the other man furiously, his breathing harsh.

"Get out of my face, Mike," he spat. "This is my fucking _brother _we're talking about. He's got no fucking clue who he is, and he's out there, alone, and I'm stuck in here, wasting my time with-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Mike punched Gerard full in the face, knocking him back, sending him stumbling straight into Frank. The brunette seized his boyfriend, saving him from falling over onto his ass. Both Killjoys then looked over at Mike, who was glaring at them, fists clenched, trying unsuccessfully to control his temper.

"You think you're the only one scared shitless?" Mike told Gerard quietly. "You think you're the only one about to lose the most important person in your life and you can do nothing but sit and wait? Well, guess again, buddy..."

Gerard, wiping at the blood on his lip, stared at Mike, still clearly fuming but now had the common sense to keep any vicious retort to himself.

"I can't lose my brother-" He whispered, but again, Mike quickly cut across him.

"I've lost mine. Shit happens."

Gerard's eyes widened, stunned by Mike's cold attitude, but before he could respond again, they were all startled by a sudden and very loud crash. Turning to look, they saw that the main entrance door had been flung open, and St Jimmy was marching into the apartment, flanked by his Draculoid guards.

"Sorry about the wait, boys," He told them, somewhat gleefully, and then a smirk spread across his face when he spotted the blood on Gerard's lip. He met Gerard's gaze for a moment, and his smirk grew. Gerard's brow furrowed as he glared back. He didn't like the look Jimmy was giving him. The man seemed more smug and superior than ever, which only increased Gerard's feeling of dread.

Jimmy seemed more confident than before. Part of Gerard didn't want to know why.

Finally, Jimmy broke the stare, and then his eyes lingered on Frank, before he stepped further into the room, a unimpressed expression on his face. "Have you guys been fighting?" He tutted. "I _am_ disappointed.

"Where's Billie Joe?" Mike snapped, at once.

Jimmy regarded Mike for a moment, and his knowing smile was enough to make all of his prisoners' blood run cold.

"Who?" He enquired, innocently.

"Don't fucking play games with me!" Mike hissed, taking a step forward. "Where is he?"

Jimmy laughed softly, and then walked up to Mike, leaning right into the desperate man's face.

"He chose to stay behind."

Mike stared at him, all colour draining from his face. "What the fuck does that mean?"

Jimmy snorted. "Real smart as ever, Mike?" He glanced over at Gerard, Frank and Bob, who were all watching the exchange closely, before returning his attention to the last remaining member of Green Day. "Like I said, Billie chose not to return."

Gerard cleared his throat. "Chose?"

Jimmy chuckled, not taking his eyes off of Mike now, clearly revelling in the former bassist's pain. "Well, maybe he did take _some_ convincing." He shrugged, his eyes twinkling. "Don't worry though, Mike, Billie would have been happy with his exit. He went out with a _real_ bang-"

"_You murdering fuck!"_

Mike didn't hesitate. He could just about hear the Killjoy's yells of warning as he flung himself at Jimmy, grabbing for the smirking man's throat, with every intention of throttling the life out of the man he was certain had stolen Billie Joe Armstrong from him. He succeeded in taking hold of Jimmy's neck and he began tosqueeze. Just as Jimmy began to wheeze painfully, the Draculoids seized Mike and were dragging him away from his would-be victim, despite Mike's best efforts to free himself, and continue his assault on the reptile that had just taken the last person he loved away from him.

Jimmy was coughing, clutching at his bruised throat. He fixed Mike with a deathly look, his hate apparent on his face, and then he barked, in anger; "I've had enough of you Green Day fuckers to last a life time." He gestured to the Draculoid covering Mike with it's ray gun. "Kill him."

Before the Drac could carry out his orders, the other rebels were rushing forward, cutting off the Draculoid's route to Mike. As the drone hesitated, still preparing to carry out it's orders, Frank made for Jimmy, grabbing him by the arm, and pulling him closer.

"Please! Don't do this."

Jimmy eyed Frank, searching the Killjoy's panicked face. He then gave Frank a tiny smile, and gestured to the Draculoid. "Stand down." The slave did as he was instructed, lowering his ray gun, and stepping away from Mike.

Frank let out a loud sigh of relief and then released Jimmy slowly, not sure what his own fate would be. He had, after all, just lunged for an Exterminator. An action such as that against Korse would have no doubt resulted in death. But Jimmy was very different to Korse, Frank simply couldn't read the scarred man. And that scared him.

After a beat, Jimmy looked away from Frank, and his gaze swept across the room. Gerard and Bob had been pushed away from Mike, and had been herded to the far wall by the other Draculoids. Both men were staring furiously at Jimmy. Gerard, in particular, looked just about ready to kill. Jimmy smirked back at him for a short time, before finally focusing his attention on Mike, who had finally given in to the grief consuming him, and had collapsed to the ground, his face hidden by his hands, his shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs. The man cut a devastating, forlorn figure. Broken and very much alone.

The last of the men that had made Jimmy's previous life a misery. The men that had betrayed him and forced him into Korse's hands. Tre gone. Billie Joe destroyed.

At last, his revenge was complete.

Jimmy regarded his fallen enemy for a moment, and then crouched down beside Mike, grabbed him by his hair, and ripped his head back. This time, Mike didn't even attempt to resist. He didn't even react to the harsh treatment, he simply stared into space.

"Now you know what loneliness is," Jimmy drawled in his ear. "I hope you fucking enjoy it as much as I did."

Mike only whimpered in response.

"Leave him alone," Gerard snarled, having seen enough. "You piece of shit."

Jimmy glared over at Gerard, but before he could respond, Bob got in there first.

"Perfect, Gerard," Bob spat, rounding on his former singer. "Make things worse. Never did know when to keep that mouth of yours shut-"

"Eat shit, Bob." Gerard retorted, furiously.

Jimmy, watching the heated discussion with some amusement, shook his head slightly, and chuckled. "Trouble in the ranks, huh? Old Death Defying will be disappointed."

Gerard whipped his head round, and regarded Jimmy coldly. "What the fuck do you know about Defying anyway, Jimmy?"

The Exterminator cocked his head thoughtfully. "Billie Joe used to talk about him, most of the time when he thought no one was listening-" He paused, leering at Gerard nastily. "And we've found out lots of information from rebels captured over the years. Especially your brother. He had plenty to say."

Gerard shuddered. "Don't you talk about Mikey, you fucking hear me?"

Jimmy's smile only grew. He straightened, and then left Mike, moving closer to the fuming Gerard. "You might not have noticed, Poison, but you are my prisoner, and if I want to talk about our ex Exterminator, I will." The look on his face was one of pure malice. "Trust me, buddy. You had better be nice to me, and do as I say, or you might seriously live to regret it."

Gerard's eyes bored into his tormentor's. Again, that feeling of despair deep within his gut grew, and he suddenly felt scared. Really, really scared. The worst thing was, Jimmy could read that fear loud and clear, and he revelled in it. Placing his lips against Gerard's cheek, causing the other man to flinch, he breathed; "You're in my power, baby. You have no idea what I can do to you. If I were you, I'd listen to me, and keep your mouth shut. Is there any part of this you don't understand, Cherry Top?" He chuckled. "Or do you want me to write it down?"

Gerard was visibly shaken. He clearly wanted to hurl himself at the taunting man and only the hold of the Draculoid beside him was stopping him. He knew that Jimmy would take great pleasure in torturing him by reminding him of what his fucking company turned Mikey into, and of course knew the pain it would cause to Gerard to know all the sickening details. But there was nothing he could do but stand there and deal with it.

The Exterminator that Better Living created was not_ his_ Mikey. That was all he could hold on to.

Jimmy held all the cards and he knew it. Mikey was his most powerful weapon against Gerard, and he was going to use that weapon to cause as much harm as he could.

But he didn't have Mikey any more. Mikey was free, and fighting their control. Gerard would cling to that, and his belief that he would see his brother again. Jimmy had nothing more in his arsenal to use against Gerard than information.

_Right?_

Jimmy stepped back, but didn't stop attacking the man he knew he could hurt.

"Tell you something Gerard," he purred; "If only you could have seen your precious little Mikey when he was being reprogrammed. How I'd have loved for you to see him cry, and beg, and curse your name because you'd let him down. You left him behind, Gerard. Left him there to suffer in your place. And he hated you for it."

"Stop," Gerard could only moan, trying not to look at the smirking man. "Just stop."

Jimmy laughed softly but ignored Gerard's whispered plea. "And once he'd been wiped, and reprogrammed, and we had our new toy, he did everything we wanted him to do. Thanks to your information, as it turned out, he went from base to base, like some fucking avenger, and wiped out every rebel in his way. He didn't care who they were, man, woman or child. It was all the same to him. I accompanied him sometimes. He never hesitated, never even blinked. He just kept on blasting away, just kept on killing. He ignored their pleas, their begging, their screams and their tears. It was beautiful to watch. The Killjoy had become our puppet, and our Co-oridnators fuck toy, and do you know what the best part of it was, Party Poison?"

Gerard didn't want to know. He had buried his head in his hands while Jimmy had been speaking, and was shaking his head desperately. "Please," he whimpered. "Please don't-"

Jimmy continued on, unflinching. "The best part was, you gave him to us on a plate when you decided to sacrifice yourself. And then he broke his programming and has to live with what he did to those people. It must hurt like hell. And guess what? What Mikey became was down to you. All of those poor dead rebels, and those mourning their loved ones, is on your conscious, Killjoy." He grabbed Gerard's hands and pulled them away, so he could snarl in the devastated man's face. "You think about that..."

"STOP IT!"

Jimmy paused, and then turned, to see Frank pulling against the Draculoid holding him back, trying to get to his boyfriend. He was glaring at Jimmy hatefully. "Just leave him the fuck alone," he spat. "You fucking asshole"

Jimmy's eyes blazed as he regarded Frank. He then smiled coldly. "So loyal to him, aren't you, Frank? Almost like you would do anything for him?" He glanced at Gerard once more. "It's almost as if somebody _willed_ you to love him, isn't it?"

"Shut up!" Gerard's head snapped up, and he pushed out at Jimmy, who merely chuckled at him.

"Pathetic," Jimmy hissed. He then rubbed at the back of his neck with his hand as he gazed from Gerard, and then to Frank. "Enough of these fun and games," he mused. "Time to get serious." He grabbed at Gerard, and shoved him toward Bob, who caught his old friend, stopping him from smashing painfully into the wall. "I have a problem," Jimmy continued. "I promised poor old, dearly departed, Billie Joe that I would release you all if he led me to, and helped me to destroy, the weapon. He kept his word, and now that the weapon, and him, are finished, I really do think that I should keep mine."

The rebels stared at him, all breathing hard. None of them truly believed that they were about to be released. It was more than Jimmy's life was worth.

_And sure enough..._

"The only problem with that," Jimmy added; "is my superiors want all of you to be killed. You're dangerous rebels, the infamous Killjoys. Murderers and rabble rousers. In their eyes, you have been labelled for extermination and that is that." His eyes narrowed. "My instructions are to execute all of you, here and now."

Bob was holding his breath. Mike was staring at the ground. Gerard and Frank exchanged glances. None of them spoke. There was nothing to say. All they could do was wait.

Jimmy licked his lips, and then spoke on. "To be honest with you guys, I haven't made up my mind yet. What I will do though, is ask that you all wait in the cells while I come to a final decision." He smiled as the confusion was clear on his captives faces, and then jerked his head toward the Draculoids. "Take the rebels away, back to the prison, until I send for them. I have a choice to make."

The rebels were then shepherded over to the door by their Draculoid guards. They came to another abrupt halt though when Jimmy broke the silence once more.

"Wait," Jimmy called. They all stopped and looked over at the Exterminator, their confusion quickly changing to anger and frustration. Jimmy merely smirked, before whispering: "I want Fun Ghoul to stay here. Leave him."

Gerard whirled around. "No chance."

The Draculoid nearest Frank ignored the Killjoy leader's outburst, instead releasing it's hold on Frank, and shoving him back further into the room, toward Jimmy. Jimmy walked up behind Frank, and placed his hand on the smaller man's shoulder. Frank shuddered under his touch. Part of him didn't even know why. He still had no idea who St Jimmy was, or why Gerard hated him so much. He was pretty certain however that he would find out very shortly. Two things he did know though, Frank didn't want to be alone with the Exterminator that made his skin crawl. And he certainly didn't want to be separated from Gerard.

Jimmy was beaming at the furious Gerard. "Take them back to their rooms."

"I'm not leaving Frank alone with you, you fucking-"

"Oh?" Jimmy purred. "So what do you intend to do to stop it from happening?"

Gerard took a step forward, but was once again seized by the nearest Draculoid. "What will I do? I swear to you, if you touch him, I will fucking kick the-"

Jimmy threw back his head, and laughed. "You think you'll get the chance? You're deluded, Gerard Way. Why can't you accept you've lost?"

Gerard shook his head. "I know what you did, you bastard. I won't let you hurt him-"

"Gee," Frank spoke up, cutting Gerard off. "I'll be fine. I'll see you later."

"Good boy," Jimmy cooed, wrapping his arm around Frank's small shoulders. He then smirked at Gerard. "Bye bye, Cherry Top." And then, with a knowing wink; "See you real soon. We've got some good times coming up, you and me."

Gerard stared at him hatefully. He had no choice in the matter as he was forced backwards, along with Mike and Bob, away from Jimmy and Frank. He fought against the tide, trying to keep close to Frank, desperate not to leave the man he loved, unwittingly, in the hands of his rapist.

"Frankie," Gerard called. "I'm sorry."

At that, Gerard was helplessly forced through the door, and out of the room.

Leaving Frank behind, and alone. And Frank didn't even know what his boyfriend was apologising for.

Jimmy let out a sigh, and then released his hold on Frank.

He cleared his throat, as Frank turned to face him, trying unsuccessfully, to hide his fear.

"Okay then, Frankie. Alone at last." Jimmy smiled. Frank could have sworn he saw some genuine affection in that smile. He told himself that he must have imagined it, as Jimmy added, pleasantly; "We have a lot to talk about."

XXX

"SHIT!"

Michael, in his frustration, threw the Draculoid communicator away from him and buried his head in his hands.

Leon, who was still crouched beside Billie, injecting his latest dose of medicine into him, looked up, and gave Michael a reassuring smile.

"Problems?"

Michael frowned. "I can't do it. I thought I'd be able to get us a signal but there's just... nothing..."

Leon gave him an apologetic look, and then turned his attention back to Billie Joe.

"Have a break. You'll get there-"

Leon's words of wisdom were interrupted when the man below him suddenly stirred, and then let out a low groan, moving his fingers gingerly.

Leon's head snapped back round. Michael was already on his feet, and moved to join Leon.

Billie Joe was waking up. At last.

They both stood over the gasping man, wanting to help him, but also aware not to crowd him.

"Easy," Leon whispered, holding Billie Joe down for his own protection, but only managing to panic the disorientated man more.

Billie Joe let out a frightened moan, and brought up his hands weakly, trying to protect himself.

"You're okay." Michael whispered, grabbing Billie Joe's hand, and squeezing. "Don't be scared. No one is gonna hurt you."

"_I'm sorry, are we interrupting something?"_

Michael and Leon looked around quickly to find Viper, flanked by Jex and Skull, marching into the camp. To their surprise, and annoyance, on Leon's part; Johan was bringing up the rear.. Michael, scowling at Viper, dropped Billie Joe's hand, to the distress of the semi-conscious man. Leon pushed Michael behind him and stepped forward, shielding both the former Killjoy, and the helpless rebel. Viper stood a small distance away, his fists clenched, glaring daggers back at Leon.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Leon snapped angrily, and then swore furiously when he was barged out of the way. Viper flew at Michael, punching him hard in the face. Michael was caught off balance from the unexpected blow, and Jex and Skull quickly took advantage, beating him into submission. Michael soon found himself lying on his back in the sand, his face bruised and bloody, and pinned to the ground by the two men, who were holding his arms tightly. He tried to struggle but quickly realised that he was trapped.

"Stop this!" Leon was shouting now, trying to force his way through to Michael. The former Killjoy was able to lift his head slightly, and saw that Johan was restraining Leon. Leon was determined to get to his friend, but Johan was stronger and younger. Leon soon tired himself out, and slumped down, able to do nothing more than stare helplessly at Michael.

"Don't hurt Leon!"

They all turned to see Electra rushing forward, and Viper threw Johan an ugly look. "Control your girlfriend, will you?" He hissed.

"Electra!" Johan barked. "Stay out of this! Just keep back."

She stopped, a shaky hand covering her mouth. She shook her head to Johan, her message clear. She didn't understand, or like, what was happening. But she didn't dare try to interfere again.

Viper was smirking smugly. He knew he was in control, and he liked it. As he crouched down beside the helpless Michael, a moan from across the camp caught his attention. He glanced over, and saw that the rebel Michael had saved was gasping slightly as he attempted to figure out where he was and what had happened.

Viper, smiling, gestured over to the semi-conscious man. "Looks like sleeping beauty finally decided to join us."

"He's not your problem," Michael snapped. "I am."

Viper tilted his head. "Do you know what, baby? I couldn't care less about who you were before they zapped your pretty head. The Killjoys are nothing to me. I wanna know who you were afterwards. I wanna know who you are to Better Living-"

"I already told you!" Michael interrupted him. "I was a Drac. That's it!"

"Then how did you know those codes?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Michael spat, in response.

Viper's eyes narrowed, and he kicked Michael hard in the gut, causing the other man to groan in pain. "Don't you fucking lie to me again, you hear me? It's time to tell us the truth, pretty."

Moaning from the latest injury, Michael took a moment to catch his breath. Finally, glaring up into Viper's sneering face, he repeated, slowly and carefully. "You already know the truth. _I was a Draculoid_."

Viper narrowed his eyes. "I'll ask you one more time. Lie to me again, and this could get nasty." His tone softened. "How did you know the code to defuse that bomb?"

Michael glared. "I didn't. You were there, you saw what happened. I only managedto hold up the explosion, not stop it. I tried a few different codes I'd used as a Drac and I just got lucky."

Viper actually snorted. "Nobody is that lucky."

Michael shrugged. "I was."

Fury shot across Viper's face. He reached into his jacket, and pulled out an ugly, evil looking knife. Michael's eyes widened at the sight of the blade, shining in the fading light of the sun. It was a meter long, and had sharp, cruel, jagged edges. It clearly had done a lot of damage in the past. And it was about to do more, this time to him. Michael couldn't help but shudder as Viper straddled him, toying with both the knife and the man trapped below him who couldn't avert his eyes.

"You like her?" Viper hissed, and Michael realised, to his discomfort, that the man was referring to his blade. "She's my sweet girl. My best friend. You know how many of your kind, Dracs that is, that she's sliced through? Ready to be next?"

"Viper!" Leon shouted. "That's enough. Leave him alone. You don't know what-"

Without even looking away from Michael, Viper smirked, and snapped; "Leon, you need to keep your mouth shut." He reached out, grabbing Michael by his throat. "I'm busy."

Michael let out a low whimper, but didn't reply.

"Now," Viper continued. "I want to know who you are."

"You already know..." Michael gasped. Viper sighed, leaned forward and held the knife against the other man's throat, cutting him off abruptly.

"Wrong answer," he hissed.

Michael managed a small smile. "You're not going to get what you want from me so you may as well give up. If you're going to kill me, just get on and do it." A small flicker of defiance resurfaced within Michael and he fixed his aggressor with a look of hate. "If you can get off of me, that would be swell. You're kinda heavy."

Viper bristled, and the hand holding the knife tightened.

Michael closed his eyes, and waited for Viper to end his life.

But Viper didn't act.

After a pause, Michael opened his eyes again, and stared up at Viper. They held gazes for a short while, and then Viper hissed; "You're a oddball, ain't ya, honey? You don't wanna die, I can see that in your eyes. You wanna know who you were before, and you're terrified that you'll die without knowing. Isn't that true?"

Michael swallowed hard, but he didn't reply.

Viper grinned. "Tell you what," he whispered in Michael's ear and then pointed over at Billie Joe with his knife. "You're counting on this guy right? This rebel? You think he's gonna wake up, look at you, and know you. The _real_ you? Well, lets see what we can do about that..."

At that, Viper was up and away from Michael, marching over to Billie Joe. He loomed over the rebel, and snickered at the fear he saw flickering across the defenceless man's face. Grabbing Billie by his collar, he hurled him up, and then held him closely to his chest, so the rebel was facing all the others.

"Don't!" Leon shouted. "He's nothing to do with this!"

"That's up to "James"," Viper purred, with a knowing smirk.

Skull let out an approving snort. Giving his brother a nod, they then dragged Michael up between them and forced him to watch, as Viper held his monster of a knife against Billie Joe's throat. Billie's eyelids fluttered slightly, and he moaned. He was barely even awake, not focusing, not even truly aware of what was happening to him.

"Tell us who you are," Viper asked Michael, his eyes flashing. "Or I will kill this guy."

"You're a fucking animal," Michael hissed. "He's not done anything to you."

Viper's smile was one of pure evil. "That's true, he's nothing to me. But he's something to you, isn't he?"

"Viper-" Leon began, but he was silenced by a threatening shake from Johan, who was watching the scene unfolding with wide eyes.

Leon bowed his head. He knew there was nothing he could do. None of these men would listen to him now. They had gone far beyond words.

"I'm waiting," Viper snarled to the fuming, desperate Michael. "Or do you want me to slash his throat?"

"No."

"_Then tell the truth!_"

Michael still didn't respond. Viper shrugged, and pressed the knife further into Billie's skin, causing his captive to whimper.

Michael couldn't see it happen.

"No!" Michael's heart was in his mouth, as he gasped; "Fucking just stop. I was an Exterminator, al right?"

Viper stopped. Jex swore loudly, while Skull threw back his head, and laughed. "Fucking knew it!"

Electra was shaking her head in disbelief. Johan was staring at Michael with pure hate. Even Leon looked truly shocked.

Billie Joe, agony etched on his face, was gazing at Michael. His eyes widened in recognition.

His voice barely a whisper, he managed; "_Mikey?_"

Viper paused. A cold smile spread across his face as he glared down at the man he was holding against him. Apparently the calmest person in the camp, Viper held Billie Joe even closer to him, and then said, so quietly.

"Your name isn't James, is it?"

After a break moment of hesitation, Michael shook his head.

Viper nodded. "What is your name? What did they call you at BL/I?"

Michael swallowed hard, knowing that he was finished. As soon as they knew his real name, his life would be over. But what could he do? He wasn't about to let any one else die for him.

With one last look at the trembling Billie Joe, he whispered; "They called me Michael."

The look of triumph in Viper's expression was sickening. He released his hold on Billie, and the helpless man fell to the ground like a stone, and he lay where he fell, slumped at Viper's feet.

Viper took a step forward, and then addressed Skull and Jex. "We should be honoured," he said softly, the glee evident in his tone. "We have the Masked Exterminator in a midst."

"Son of a bitch!" Skull declared.

Leon closed his eyes. Johan looked quickly toward Viper as if he couldn't believe his ears.

Jex tightened his hold on Michael. Spraying him with spit, he snarled; "You killed our brother, you fucker..."

Michael fixed Jex with a look of disdain. "I killed a lot of people's brothers."

"Yeah," Viper said, calmly and quietly. "And you're gonna pay for that..."

Suddenly, Leon came alive. Forcing his elbow in Johan's chest, the younger man stumbled back in surprise, crying out in pain. Viper's head snapped round, his eyes narrowing, and he moved forward, knife at the ready.

Leon was faster. He dived to the ground. At first, Michael wasn't sure what he was doing, but then saw Leon roll over and then stop, up on one knee, Michael's ray gun grasped in his hand, the gun aimed straight at Viper.

Viper stopped, his eyebrow raised.

"What are you doing Leon?" He snarled. "He's the fucking bad guy, not me!"

"I don't think so," Leon told him, holding his nerve. "I will kill you, Viper, I swear to God."

Jex had released his hold on Michael's arm and had quickly stood up, his fists clenched.

That was all Michael needed. With one arm now free, he was able to hit out at Skull, who fell down beside him with a startled cry. Michael was scrambling back, away from the brothers, ready to fight them off. They all stopped when they heard the ray gun blast, and turned quickly to find that Leon had sent a shot up into the dark sky. He lowered the gun so it was once more aiming at Viper. His face was determined.

"I'll shoot all three of you if I have to," Leon snapped. His eyes were locked on Viper's. "Take your stuff, and your gang, and get out of my camp. Now."

"Don't be a fool-"

"I said," Leon cut across him. "Go. And don't come back."

Viper glared at him furiously, but knew there was nothing he could do against the BL/I weapon. With a cold smirk to Michael, he placed his knife back inside his jacket, and then jerked his head to Skull and Jex.

"Lets go, boys."

Skull whirled round. "You have got to be fucking joking-"

"We're out of here!" Viper yelled. His eyes met Skull's, and then he turned back to Leon. "For now."

Skull looked like he was going to argue further, but with one furious glare from Viper, he changed his mind.

No one spoke again as Viper walked past Leon, and then Michael, to join Jex and Skull. Viper smiled coldly at Michael, who stared right back. The three Scavengers then turned their backs on the others, picked up their belongings, and slowly walked away. They didn't look back.

Johan looked as though he wanted to go after them. Leon eyed him cautiously.

"Go with them if you want to." Leon told him.

Johan bristled. "I'm not leaving Electra with _him_." He gestured furiously to Michael, who let out a deep sigh.

Electra was shaking her head from side to side, as if she was trying to process everything that had gone down. With a nervous glance to Michael, she then ran to Leon, offering him her hand. He took it after a moment's hesitation, and she helped him to his feet. He tossed the gun to one side, giving it a look of disgust, dusted himself down, and then moved quickly to Billie Joe, who was trembling all over, his eyes tightly closed. With a frown, Leon checked him over, placing a comforting hand on the shaking man's arm. He then gestured to Electra, and she quickly moved to fetch his drugs for him.

"How is he?" Michael whispered.

Leon glanced at Michael as he worked quickly, mixing a cocktail of drugs together. "He's gone into shock," Leon replied grimly. "He's already been through hell, only for Viper to manhandle and attack him as he regained consciousness? He's lucky to be alive." Placing the prepared syringe against Billie Joe's arm, he injected the drug into the writhing man. A few seconds pass, and then Billie slumped, his body still. Seeing Michael's questioning look, Leon smiled grimly and said, "He'll be fine. He'll sleep for now. When he wakes up again, he should be okay."

"He said my name..." Michael muttered, more to himself.

Leon nodded. "Yeah, and unfortunately, Viper used that against you."

"What the _fuck_?" Johan shouted. "Leon, what is with you? This guy is an Exterminator! Viper was only thinking of all of us!"

Michael couldn't help himself. He began to laugh.

Johan's eyes narrowed. "You think this is funny, you scum?"

"I think you are ridiculous," Michael retorted. "Viper just threatened an innocent, helpless man and he did it for the greater good?"

"That's right," Johan replied at once. "And he found out the truth, didn't he? You lied to us from the beginning! You weren't a Drac, you were an Exterminator. The masked Exterminator!" Johan's voice grew in volume along with his anger, and he stalked toward Michael, his fists raised. "You killed so many of my friends. Do you even know that? You ordered the deaths of-" He broke off, taking a few deep breaths. And then, finally, he added: "I hate you."

Electra was beside Johan, taking hold of his hand, trying to calm him. He glanced at her, clearly trying not to cry in front of a girl he had become very fond of. But then, with one more look toward Michael, who was merely watching him right back, Johan pushed Electra, and her kindness, away.

"Get away from me," Johan snapped. "You're either with the BL/I spy, or you're with me. Which is it?"

"I'm no spy," Michael said softly.

"Shut up!" Johan yelled, and then turned back to Electra, staring almost into her, and she shuddered under his gaze. "So, Electra? Are you staying here with him and that idiot who can't see the truth? Or are you coming with me?"

Electra blinked hard. She glanced at Leon, and then caught Michael's gaze. Finally, she again looked toward Johan, who was waiting for her answer.

"Well?" He urged, his patience expired.

"Even if he was an Exterminator," she said, softly; "He's broken his conditioning, which means he's free of them." She took a deep breath. "And besides, Leon saved my life, Johan. Hell, he saved yours too. If he can trust him, then that's good enough for me."

Johan stared at her for a moment. He then shook his head dumbly. "You're as stupid as he is..." He muttered, and then chuckled humourlessly. "To hell with you then." He was quickly moving past Electra, ignoring her last desperate plea to him as he passed her by.

Johan kept walking, leaving the camp, and the people he had called home for the last few months. He couldn't stay there now, knowing as he did that he would be sharing the camp with the person that had ruined his life...

He trudged through the sand, becoming aware, to his panic, that the sun had almost completely set, and only the moon was lighting his way. He knew he couldn't be out in the Zones, alone, at night, unprotected but he was not going to go back to that camp. Leon had made the mistake of his life, of that Johan had no doubt. The Exterminator would betray them all, and Johan would not stand around and wait for that to happen.

Being ripped apart by wild dogs seemed a better choice to Johan than allowing himself to be re-programmed or executed by a patrol of Draculoids.

He was so lost in his thoughts, that he didn't hear anybody creeping up behind him, so when the hand suddenly covered his mouth, he was taken by complete surprise, and struggled against his antagoniser desperately.

The drawled words in his ear of: "Steady, it's just me," calmed him, and he was instantly released. He turned around to see Viper standing behind him, with Jex and Skull a small distance away.

"You saw sense then, kid?" Viper noted, with an approving smile. "Smart."

Johan nodded, and glanced away. "I think Leon's lost his mind."

Viper smirked. "I agree. Somebody needs to put this right. We're gonna try." He placed his hand on Johan's shoulder. "Can we count on you to help us, Johan?"

Johan turned and looked back in the direction of the camp for a moment. He let out a deep sigh, before turning and staring straight at the expectant Viper.

"What do you want me to do?"

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry for the long wait guys. I'm sure you know why. Found it hard to write after the split. Anyway, I'm still going with this so I hope you are still reading it. Next chapter is a big one... lots of reunions. :)**

**Enjoy!**

**~x~**

**Purifying Flame**

**Chapter Eleven.**

Frank was standing in the middle of Jimmy's living quarters, his hands clasped in front of him nervously. He watched as Jimmy busied around, checking through paperwork that a Draculoid had just brought for him. He was nodding his head, whispering to himself, before tossing the unknown documents onto the couch. Then, he stopped, smiled, and finally turned to face his worried captive.

"What are you standing there for, Ghoul?" Jimmy queried, gesturing to a nearby chair. "Have a seat and then, we can talk."

Frank glanced at the chair, pulled up in front of a metal table, and frowned. He hesitated for a moment, and then followed Jimmy's instructions. He scraped the chair back away from the table, and then sat down. His hands remained clasped though, only now placed in his lap as he watched the Exterminator, wondering what his next move would be.

Jimmy sauntered over to him, and Frank couldn't help but tense up. Jimmy made his skin crawl but the fact that he didn't know why was what bothered him.

The other man offered him a lazy smile. "Drink?"

Frank blinked. "What?"

Jimmy chuckled. "I was wondering if you wanted a drink? Glass of rum? I'm going to have one?"

Frank shrugged. "Sure."

A big grin swept across the man's face as he moved quickly to a cabinet and opened it, revealing a very well stocked liquor collection. He grabbed two glasses and a bottle of bacardi, something Frank hadn't seen for a very long time let alone tasted, and then walked back over to the Killjoy, placing the glasses and bottle on the table in front of him. He then took hold of a chair and crashed it against the table, before slipping into the seat.

He then grinned at Frank. "Go ahead then, pour us a drink!"

Frank started at the sudden request, and then slowly reached out with a shaky hand to grip the bottle. Unscrewing the top, he then poured himself a drink, and then one for Jimmy. He then rescrewed the bottle, and pushed it aside. Jimmy then let out a happy sigh, picked up the glass, and drank down some of the liquid before replacing his glass with a satisfied hiccup. He then jerked his head to Frank, whose own drink sat untouched.

"Not thirsty after all then?"

Frank suddenly realised that the sneering man was playing a game with him, and he back at him.

"Are you going to tell me what I'm doing here?"

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. "I thought you and I were enjoying a drink together, Frank."

Frank glowered. "Why me?"

"Why you what?"

"Stop fucking with me!"

Jimmy paused at Frank's sudden angry response, and then he leaned closer, his eyes twinkling. "I'm not fucking with you, Fun Ghoul. Not yet, anyway." He then gave him a evil grin. "If you're up for it though-"

"I don't even know who you are."

Jimmy's lips twitched. "True, but that was your choice, not mine." His tone grew colder. "You had to do as _Gerard_ told you, didn't you?" He sneered. "Always the good, obediant little puppy..."

Frank eyed him hatefully. "I love Gerard. And he loves me. He wanted to protect me."

Jimmy laughed. "Really? Maybe he was protecting himself more than you. If you saw the truth, Frank, you might see things a little differently."

"What do you want?" Frank snapped, staring past Jimmy, at the wall behind him. "What is this all about?"

Jimmy smirked again. "Why don't you just sit quietly and drink your drink?"

Frank couldn't take it anymore. He felt a surge of anger rip through him and with a shout of anger, he threw the glass at the wall behind Jimmy, where it smashed to pieces.

"_Tell me what the fuck you want!"_

Jimmy froze, eyes widened in surprise, as he regarded the furious and scared man sat in front of him.

Frank took a deep breath, fighting to regain control of his temper, before his eyes once again met Jimmy's.

This time, he spoke calmly, but the emotion was clear: "Tell me why I'm here, or let me be with the others. With Gerard."

Jimmy gazed at him for a few moments, and then let out a big sigh. "It's not going to work like this," he said, more to himself. He then stood, pushing his chair back, and hurriedly left the room. Frank sat there, his feeling of dread growing with every passing second and when, a few minutes later, Jimmy returned to the room holding a syringe, that dread turned into full-blown terror. Frank jumped up, shoving the chair out of his way, and made a desperate effort to get to the door. Whatever that injection meant for him, he didn't want to know. He didn't get very far though, finding himself grabbed roughly, and then thrown up against the wall near the door. Frank quickly found himself trapped, held up against the wall, unable to move. Jimmy rubbed at his forehead, choosing a spot. Frank knew what this meant, knew only to well what would happened next. They had called it "marking" before, hadn't they?

"I gotta inject this into your forehead," Jimmy was telling him, bringing the syringe closer. "I need you to keep still."

"Fuck you!" Frank struggled, trying to dislodge Jimmy, who was using his body to pin Frank against the wall. "Please," Frank then pleaded, willing to say or do anything to keep that needle away from him. "Please don't do this to me again. Don't inject that shit into me. I can't die like that-"

"You ain't gonna die, sweetheart."

Frank stopped, and looked down to find, with some amazement, that Jimmy had placed his hand on Frank's arm, in a gesture that was obviously supposed to be comforting. Jimmy then said quietly, "I know you're scared, but I don't wanna hurt you. This isn't like last time with Korse, it's not marking. This will clear your head, take away the block. You'll be able to see clearly then. This will help you, Frank." He smiled, and this time, it was genuine. "Trust me, Frank."

And then quickly, before Frank could reply, Jimmy held the needle against his arm, and injected him.

The effect was immediate. Frank screamed as the agony hit him, and felt like his head was literally bursting. He writhed on the floor, clinging hold of Jimmy for dear life. The bastard had lied to him. He was going to die, his head was going to explode. He would never see Gerard again.

He could feel everything becoming hazy, the pain was fading, becoming numb. He knew why. He was leaving his body, it was nearly done. Wouldn't be long now.

He would see his family again soon. Jamia, the girls and Miles were waiting for him, he was sure of it. His last thought was for Gerard and for the fact he would never hear him sing again...

And then, something changed. Something wasn't right. There was no bright light he was going toward. He could still feel, he was still aware. He could sense Jimmy close to him, still holding his hand, whispering words of encouragement even though he couldn't hear him, he _knew_ he was there.

He could see flashes, images, in his mind. They were floating before his eyes and he watched them, as if he was watching a movie in his head. A mad thought sprang into his brain: This is what Gerard must have felt like when Korse took his memories. But already, he knew the thought was wrong. Because this wasn't memories being taken from him. On the contrary, they were being returned.

And they were playing before him, the events that had been blocked, in reverse...

_Gerard holding him, laying beside him, keeping him close. He was in the Trans, and Poison was casting concerned glances at him in the rear view mirror. Poison walking away with a man he couldn't quite see. The Killjoys had come for him. Jimmy was staring at him, so close, asking him if he was ok. A crumpled Scarecrow lying dead on the floor. The same Crow holding some device to his head, and he was screaming. Jimmy handing him to the Crow. Jimmy driving the Trans while he was trapped on the backseat._

The memories were going by faster now, and he knew he was writhing, crying out. The pain wasn't so numb now. God, it hurt.

_He was lying in the sand, Jimmy was above him, thrusting into him, forcing him. Oh God. He was raping him and Frank was enjoying it. He was scared. So scared. Jimmy talking to him, worming his way in, Frank trusting him. Picking up a hitchiker. Frank driving away, alone. Leaving the Killjoys behind. Leaving Gerard behind. He was attacking Gerard, hitting and hitting him, lost in his fury. Gerard was shouting at him and he was so angry at him. He hated him so much..._

_The images were fading. He couldn't see them so clearly now. They were becoming memories..._

_Memories returned that had been stolen._

_He was complete once again._

Frank was coming back. It wasn't so hazy now, he was waking up. He was hit once more by the full blast of the pain, and he cried out, realising he was still laying on the floor. His eyes flickered open, and he gasped. He stared up at Jimmy, tears dripping down his face. Jimmy leaned back, and smiled at him.

"Now," Jimmy whispered, apparently striving to catch his breath as it had clearly been a struggle to try and keep Frank calm. His eyes were locked onto Frank's, and he appeared flustered. "Do you remember?"

Frank gaped back at him, his eyes wide and crazed. He shook his head slowly, and then covered his face with his hands, moaning quietly. Jimmy took a wary step toward Frank, but then stopped when the Killjoy's moans came to an abrupt halt, and he carefully raised his head, to fix Jimmy with a disbelieving look.

A knowing smile crept across Jimmy's face. He'd seen it there at last, in Frank's bewildered expression. There was just a tiny flicker of recognition, and that one moment told Jimmy everything he needed to know. It had worked. His Frank was back.

And now, they could truly begin.

"Frank, I'm sure your-"

Before he even got the chance to finish his carefully plotted sentence, Frank was moving toward him. With a cry of rage, Frank flung himself at Jimmy, sending the other man sprawling to the ground. Jimmy was on the defence at once, trying to force Frank away from him, not allowing any of the clearly frightened man's wild punches to hit home. He grabbed at Frank's wrists, holding him steady, and then pushed him backwards. Frank, off balance, fell to the ground and Jimmy used the opportunity to straddle Frank, and then pin him down beneath him. He could see the smaller man's fear, the pure terror written all over his contorted face, and he felt something akin to regret. It had not been his intention to harm Frank, he had merely wanted to make him whole again.

He had meant it as a kindness, but it had backfired badly on him.

He had no other option, he had to try to get through to Frank and calm him down. Otherwise, it had all been for nothing...

"Frank," he said firmly. "Listen to me."

"Get off me!" Frank snarled in response, arms flailing, trying to wriggle his way free. "Don't touch me, you fucking bastard!"

"I need you to calm down. Keep away from that smashed glass-"

"Fuck you!"

With a frustrated sigh, Jimmy hit Frank full in the face, stunning him. This bought Jimmy some time and he took full advantage, grabbing Frank's arms and forcing them up above his head. Frank, his breathing laboured, glared up at Jimmy hatefully.

"I know you're scared, Frank," Jimmy told him. "But you have to hear me out."

Frank actually laughed. "I don't owe you a fucking thing!"

Anger surged within Jimmy, and he leaned closer to Frank, tightening his hold on his wrists until the captured man winced in pain. "You're trying my patience, you know that, sweetheart?"

Frank gaped at Jimmy. "What do you expect from me? You made me remember!" His eyes narrowed. "You raped me, you fucker. And then you tried to hand me over to BL/I for drugs! Did you really think we'd sit down and have a nice little talk? Reminisce about the good old days?"

Jimmy pursed his lips together. "I also saved your life, and killed a Scarecrow for you. I got caught by Korse and ended up in prison base, because of you."

Frank shook his head. "Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?"

Jimmy gritted his teeth. "No, I don't want your sympathy. Some respect would be nice though."

Frank suddenly felt an insane desire to laugh. "Respect?" He repeated, disbelieving. "I wanted to help you and you repaid me by beating and raping me. You actually thought that I'd want to live with knowing that?" He swallowed hard. "You should have left me alone."

"Is that right?" Jimmy threw at him; "I did think saving your fucking life would at least allow me the chance to explain. Obviously not."

Frank clearly could not believe his ears. He gaped at the other man, and then shook his head, screwing his eyes up tight. "You're mad," he whispered. "You're seriously fucked up."

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. "If you say so." He placed his lips against Frank's ear. "But it would probably be a good idea for you to remember that I've got your life in my hands right now." Judging that Frank's temper had relented, he released his hold on the smaller man. Frank moved away from Jimmy at his first opportunity, rubbing at his bruised hands, while giving the man a distrusting glare.

"I don't care what you do to me-" He began, but Jimmy cut across him.

"You don't care about yourself, Frankie? Okay then. But what about Gerard?"

Frank paused. He met Jimmy's look, and his insides squirmed.

"This has nothing to do with Gerard," Frank said softly. "This is between you and me. Leave him out of it."**  
**  
Jimmy's eyes flashed. "It has everything to do with him, Frank. And Mike and Bob too." He got to his feet carefully, and then walked back over to his desk, picking up the glass of liquor he had poured for himself. "My superiors want you all dead, especially Gerard. As far as they are concerned, you're all dangerous fugitives, marked for extermination. They've ordered me to execute you as quickly as possible, and there isn't anything I can do to change their minds."

Frank was watching him closely. He didn't know why Jimmy was even sharing all of this with him. If he was to die, then he wanted to spend his final moments with Gerard, not stuck in that room with Jimmy. He was at a loss as to why Jimmy had restored his memory at all. Seemed a waste of decent drugs, considering what he had just told him.

"Why are you telling me this?" Frank asked, quietly.

Jimmy grinned. "Because, if you do as I say, Frankie, I'll go against my boss, and I'll spare them." He licked his lips. "All of them."

Dread seized Frank. "What do you want?" He asked, in a tiny voice.

Jimmy took a step toward him. "I want _you."_ He replied, with some passion. "I want you to stay here in the City, with me." He paused, watching for Frank's reaction. It was minimal. Frank merely continued to stare at him, so Jimmy tossed his head back, and sneered. "Stay here as my lover, Frank, and I'll let the others walk out of here. Refuse me, and die with them." He raised an eyebrow. "What's it to be?"

Frank was silent for a moment, and then he burst out laughing. He couldn't help it. What Jimmy was proposing was ridiculous.

"You really _are_ fucking mad, you know that?"

The Exterminator's eyes flashed dangerously. "Maybe. But that's not an answer."

Frank crossed his arms over his chest, and glared hatefully at Saint Jimmy. "I'd rather die than be with you."

Jimmy's confident smile faltered. For a moment, his face contorted, and he looked furious. But then, he had recovered, and that smug smirk was back. He grinned coldly as he took in Frank's stubborn look.

"I know you don't trust me." Jimmy told him, softly. "And I'm sorry about that. But believe me now; no one would hurt you. You'd be accepted. You could actually live a life, don't you get what I'm saying? I'm offering you your life back, Frank!"

"I have a life. I'm a Killoy."

"You _exist_, it's a different thing! All you have to do is _trust_ me…"

"Hard to trust my rapist." Frank retorted, cutting across him.

Jimmy bristled. "Wait until the fog lifts," he hissed. "You might find that you enjoyed our time together as much as I did."

Frank was sickened. "That's not true! You forced yourself on me!"

"Change the record, Frank!" Jimmy threw at him. "There are more important things."

Frank wanted to kill him. His smug confidence and the way he was belittling something so horrendous, so huge, was destroying Frank inside. Frank knew the rape was not a big deal to Jimmy. He'd wanted sex, so he he's gone ahead and taken what he wanted, no matter whether it was consensual or not. Sex was nothing to Jimmy. Just something to pass the time. And his attitude was only making Frank feel even worse.

Not only had Jimmy raped his body, but also his mind. Frank had had no say in the violent act itself, nor in the decision to have his mind wiped afterwards. And now he was being forced all over again, forced to relive his attack. And Jimmy was behaving as if Frank was making a small situation into a needlessly big deal. All Frank wanted was to be away from the other man, back with Gerard, where he was safe and where he belonged. But he was trapped. Once again, his choices were not his own to make. He belonged to Saint Jimmy now.

Frank steadied himself, and cleared his throat. He was not going to give in without a fight, he knew that for sure. He'd allowed Bert to have his way with him, something else that haunted him to this day. He would not be so weak again.

"I want to go back to the others now," he told Jimmy firmly. "If I'm going to die, then I'm dying out there, with the man I love. Not in here with someone I hate."

Jimmy merely gazed at Frank. Frank bravely held his stare, refusing to look away first.

Finally, Jimmy turned away, looking towards the door.

Frank felt a small spark of triumph. He'd won.

His victory was short lived.

"I could kill Gerard in front of you," Jimmy said, not looking at Frank. "I could torture him for hours before I let him die."

Frank shuddered at that, but he held firm. "You can do what you like. Gerard is stronger than you think he is. Besides, it wouldn't do you any good. I'm not staying in this hell with you, Jimmy. I hate you. Accept it."

Jimmy let out a loud sigh, and then looked back over at Frank, giving a resided shake of the head.

"You're a stubborn bastard, aren't you, Frank?"

Frank couldn't help but smile at that. "Are we done, then?"Something flickered across Jimmy's face then. "Not quite." There was a calmness that unnerved Frank more than ever about Jimmy. He still looked far too confident, and had the air of a man who knew he was going to get everything his heart desired and to hell with everybody else. With a cold smile, he brought his wrist up, pressed the activate button, and waited for a response.

Sure enough, a new voice filled the small room.

"_David here, Sir."_

Jimmy smirked at Frank.

"Do you have her, David?"

Frank blinked, his sense of foreboding growing ever more intense. Who was this "her?" What was happening now? One thing was for sure, he didn't like it.

There was a pause before David replied, "_Yes Sir. I am bringing her over to your rooms now."_

Jimmy nodded approvingly. "That's excellent, David. You've done a real good job. Bring her straight in. See you soon."

After a long, uncomfortable pause, Jimmy cut of the signal of his communicator, and lowered his wrist. His eyes then locked onto Frank's once more.

"I think you might change your mind now, baby."

Frank grimaced. "I won't. And I'm not your baby."

Jimmy chuckled. "We'll see."**  
**

**XXX**

Ray and Shona were still crossing the Zones, Grace dragging along between them. They were all exhausted, having been travelling for so long. Grace and Shona were also both suffering from exposure to the sun, and Ray knew neither of them would be able to go on much longer without rest. The sun was fading, another day was nearly over, and soon it would be too dangerous for them to be out in the open. The packs would be out there, hunting for food and they would be a very easy target. Ray feared what would happen to them all if they had to spend one more night out in those Zones, with no protection.

There was more to it of course. Losing Bandit had been a blow too far for Ray. Watching her being driven away had as good as killed him. To have found Bandit, to have discovered that a link to Gerard and the past still existed, only to have her stolen away; It was like losing Gerard all over again. He had let his friend down, and nothing Shona or Grace could say would ease the suffering her loss caused Ray.

He missed them so much. His best friends, his brothers. He was the last man standing, and he was failing them. He was weak, and they would be so ashamed if they could see him now.

He didn't even notice Shona moving ahead of the girls to walk right beside him.

"It wasn't your fault, you know." She told him softly.

Ray started, and then glanced over at her. "Yeah, it was." He replied, grimly. "I got careless."

"If it wasn't for you, we'd all have been taken or killed-"

"He took Bandit!" Ray snapped, rounding on her angrily. "She was all I had left, and I let him put her in that car, and take her away. I let Gerard down."

Shona shook her head and then reached out a took his hand. "I don't think he'd see it that way," she whispered. "If he were here."

"But he's not here, is he?" Ray managed, the agony clear in his tone. "He's dead, and I've just lost the only thing left of him on this planet. I've betrayed his memory."

Shona could feel the emotion swirling inside of her. His pain was breaking her heart and she had no idea what to say to him to make it better. Her relationship with the Killjoy had been tense from the start, but she could feel nothing but pity and anger for him now. She was as much to blame for failing Bandit as he was, perhaps even more so. Bandit, like Grace, had been in her care. Losing Bandit had been a bitter blow for them all, including Grace. She had not said one word since her friend had been stolen from them. They all needed healing, but Shona had no idea where to even start.

She might have had one day. When she had been somebody else. Not now, not since they'd killed her love. Actually, dying would have been preferable. David was still alive, still there, but she couldn't reach him. And it was destroying her.

She opened her mouth, to try to comfort to Ray once more, but before she could even choose her words, something on the horizon caught her eye. She frowned, squinting, trying to focus on the movement she could swear she had seen, and sure enough, her eyes hadn't deceived her. She could see two moving objects in the distance, heading right toward them. And they were getting closer.

Shona gripped Ray's hand tighter. "Jet," she hissed. "Look over there. Cars, coming this way!"

Grace let out a low gasp from behind them, and Shona was quickly at her side, her arm wrapped around the girl's small shoulders. "It's BL/I again!" Grace whimpered. "They've come back for us."

"Good." Ray snarled. "I'll dust the fuckers this time."

"We have to take cover!" Shona shot to him. "Two cars means two patrols. We'll be hopelessly outnumbered."

Jet Star had already drawn his raygun. "You get yourselves out of harms way," he threw over his shoulder. "I'll hold the bastards up, give you time to run."

Shona stared at him. "Don't be stupid!" She spat. "You won't stand a chance. It'll be you, one man, versus eight Draculoids-"

"I'm a Killjoy," he interjected, hate clear in his tone. "As far as I know, I'm the last. And I can fucking take them."

"Please Ray!" Shona pleaded, trying one last time. "Please don't sacrifice yourself!"

Ray turned and faced her. "Get Grace and yourself to safety." He hissed. "Go!"

She had no choice. Shona had to think about Grace. Giving him one last desperate look, Shona grabbed the girl's hand and then ran, making for some large rocks that were only a few meters away. She looked over her shoulder, saw that the cars were getting closer, and also saw that Ray was kneeling down now, ready to open fire the moment they came into range. With a sob, Shona threw herself and Grace, who was fighting the whole way, fighting to get back to Jet Star, behind a rock, and then flung herself onto Grace, shielding her from whatever was to come.

Ray glanced over to where Shona and Grace had just disappeared, and he grimaced. He shook his head, ray gun aimed and at the ready. No running away again. Not this time. He was ready to protect them with his life. He had failed Gerard, Mikey and Frank; had even failed Bandit. Not again. He would die to save the only people he knew for sure he had left. The Draculoids would not take them too. He wouldn't lose anyone else.

The cars were so nearly in range. His hands were steady. Maybe he would take a few of them with him. The cars would be blast proof, as normal, but the Draculoids themselves weren't.

_Just a bit closer. Come on, you bastards!_

Ray opened fire. He shot blast after blast at the first car, but each shot bounced harmlessly away. He growled angrily, knowing he couldn't stop the cars. He didn't stop trying though. He gasped when he saw a blaster bomb being flung near him. He had a moment to wonder why they didn't aim the explosive right at him before it exploded and he was thrown off of his feet. The force made him drop his gun and he swore furiously as he regained his senses. He heard the car screech to a halt close to him and he took a deep breath. They obviously wanted him alive. More fun for them, he presumed. He heard the car door swing open, and then the footsteps behind him and knew his time was up. Steeling himself, he rolled over, still lying on his front, grabbing for his gun, but a hand snatched up the weapon before he could. He cringed, knowing he had failed again. It didn't occur to him that the hand wasn't gloved...

He lay there for a few more seconds, until he heard a voice snarl, "Get up, Killjoy." He closed his eyes, sending up another silent apology to the men he had let down, and then he pushed himself over onto his back, already planning to protect Shona and Grace with his last breath. When he looked up into the face of his would-be Draculoid captor, he let out a gasp of shock. Show Pony stood over him, beaming.

"Hey Jet Star," he grinned, and then tilted his head. "Sorry. Were you expecting someone else?"

Ray, open mouthed, gaped up at Show Pony. He couldn't believe his eyes. Pony, still smiling, offered his hand to Ray, who took it gladly. Pony pulled the Killjoy to his feet, and then embraced him tightly.

"You okay?" He asked him. "Can't quite believe we found you. We thought you guys were done for, not going to lie. What the fuck happened?"

Ray shook his head stupidly. "How did you get the Transporters?"

Pony glanced at the two cars. "We came across a Draculoid patrol last night. We attacked them, lost a couple of men but managed to wipe the Dracs out and take the cars. Been a big help. We've managed to deal with a few more scouts since. Got the element of surprise. Not sure for how long though. They'll figure it out soon, get the word around."

"And why you out here?"

"The Doc sent us. We were gonna see how close we could get, see what we could find out."

"About what?"

Pony frowned. "About you guys." He put his arm around Ray. "We haven't heard a thing from you guys since you set off. We thought the worst, but the Doc needed to know what had happened. So, me and some of the boys said we'd try and find something out. Didn't think we'd find you though!" He sighed then. "What about the others though? Frank, Billie and Mike? The other boys that went with you? What happened to them?"

Ray quickly looked over his shoulder, holding a hand up to stop Pony's questions. "Shona, Grace! It's okay. Come on out!"

Shona poked her head out from behind the rock. "What?"

"It's Show Pony! It's cool. Come out here!"

Shona's face broke into a big smile, and she rushed out, pulling Grace along with her. "How the hell did you find us?" Shona demanded.

"Just luck," Pony replied. "You found us!"

Ray suddenly grabbed Shona's hand. "Shona, I need you to get in this car, take Grace, and go back to the base."

Shona blinked. "You are coming too?"

Ray gave her a quick look, and then turned his attention to Show Pony. "How many of you guys came on this mission?"

Pony frowned. "Six. Three in this car, three in the other. Hoped we'd find somebody to bring back." He smiled. "Didn't really believe we would though."

"I want one of the cars to take Shona and Grace back."

"And the other?"

Ray swallowed. "I want you to take me back to the City."

"Hell no," Show snapped, holding up his hands. Shona had the same reaction, calling out "no" and informing Ray he was mad.

"You were gonna get as close as you could," Ray argued with Pony but ignoring Shona. "I'm not asking for more than that. But I gotta know if the others made it out. I need to try, Pony." He lowered his voice. "And there's someone else, someone I know was taken there tonight. I gotta try and find her."

"Ray," Shona beseeched him. "Lets go back to the base together. What happened to Bandit wasn't your fault-"

"I can't leave her," Ray told her, tears swimming in his eyes. "For Gerard, I gotta try." His very being pleaded with her, to try and make her understand. "Please, Shona. I gotta do this. You get it, don't you?"

Shona stared at him for a moment, and then nodded. She then turned to Show Pony.

"Please take him as close as you can."

Pony still wasn't convinced. "I'd be risking a lot of lives."

"Just scout it out then," Shona whispered. "Go to the boundary and see what you can find out. I think you owe it to Frank, Mike, Billie Joe and the rest. They'd do it for you. You know they would."

Show Pony looked down, his hands on his hips. Finally, he looked up. "We were going there anyway."

Ray smiled at him, nodding appreciatively.

Show Pony waved the other car forward and it came to a stop right beside him. A rebel got out, leaning against the door.

"What's the plan, Pony?"

"Take Miss Shona and the girl here back to the base and see they get medical attention. They've had a long walk through the Zones."

"Sure thing," he replied, and then gestured to Shona and Grace. "Come on then, ladies."

Grace ran to Ray and he picked her up as she through her arms around him, holding him closely.

"Come home soon," she told him, and she kissed his cheek.

He held her tightly. "I'll see you soon, Gracie."

Putting the girl back down on the ground, Ray then turned to Shona. They embraced, somewhat awkwardly. "Thanks for everything," he whispered to her.

She nodded, they pulled apart, and then Shona went to Grace, taking her hand.

They both smiled and waved to Ray, who gave them a little salute in return.

Show Pony then walked up to Ray once more. "Its nearly dark. If we're really gonna do this, we need to leave now, boss."

Ray didn't need telling twice. He moved quickly to the passenger side, pulled open the door, and climbed in, acknowledging the two men sitting in the back. "You okay with this guys?" He asked them. They nodded in response. "The plan was to go to the city," the older of the two men said. "Way I see it, nothings changed. Cept, we got a Killjoy with us now."

Ray smiled, then watched as Show Pony slipped into the seat beside him, slammed the door shut, and started the engine.

"Lets do this then," Pony muttered.

Ray closed his eyes, and leant his head back against the rest as the car roared back into life.

_'Hold on, Bandit. I'm coming.'_

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

**Hi guys. Sorry for the long delay again. Next will be before the end of the month though, so thats pretty good, right?! Thanks for all the reviews to chapter 11, please keep them coming!**

**Enjoy!**

**Purifying Flame**

**Chapter Twelve**

Frank and Jimmy were back in the Exterminator's main office, waiting for the others to be brought back in. Frank was stood by the back wall, Jimmy perched opposite him. Frank's whole body language was one of defeat, whereas Jimmy was practicly bouncing on the spot in anticaption. Every so often, Jimmy smirked at Frank, who refused to return his look.

"You ready for this?" Jimmy asked him. "Should be eventful."

Frank didn't reply.

Jimmy shrugged. "Suit yourself," he told him, and then turned quickly, as the doors suddenly swung open, and David strode into the apartments. Gerard, Mike and Bob were dragged in behind him, completely surrounded by Draculoid guards.

Gerard instantly made for Frank, but was held back by the nearest Drac.

"You okay, Frankie?" He demanded.

Frank didn't even look at him.

"What the fuck have you done to him?" Gerard snapped to Jimmy.

Jimmy chuckled, and then held Gerard's stormy gaze for a moment, before looking away, with an air of disinterest. Playing with his wrist communicator, he crossed the room, his enjoyment of the power he held only to evident.

"This is how it is, gentlemen." Jimmy announced, getting straight down to business. He leaned back against his desk, and smirked. "After giving the matter some serious thought, I have come to a decision about your pointless and sad little lives. I'm satisfied that your little rebel movement is already as good as over." His eyes flashed as he again looked at Gerard. "The Killjoys are over, and the rest of the rebels are finished." His lips curled into a cruel grin. "Your brother made sure of that, didn't he?"

"Fuck you." Gerard snarled.

"No thanks," Jimmy retorted. "I've got what I want, Cherry. And it's not you."

Gerard blinked. He didn't know what Jimmy was getting at, but he knew it wouldn't be good. Nothing involving the slimy Exterminator ever was. Again, Gerard stole a glance at Frank, and still his boyfriend refused to respond. Gerard was no longer merely concerned. The concern had grown into outright fear. Finally, his attention returned to Jimmy.

"What is it that you fucking want?" He snapped.

"Want?" Jimmy repeated. "I want you gone, Gerard. I want to forget you ever existed. You bore me. It would be so easy to order your execution and have the fun of watching you die, but I'm in a good mood." He raised an eyebrow. "And I'm still pretty satisfied with what happened to poor, tragic Billie Joe-"

Mike went to force his way forward, but was restrianed by a Draculoid. Jimmy saw the effort and he rolled his eyes wearily. With a sigh, he moved away from the desk, edging closer to Frank. "As I was saying, I've got what I want right here, none of you are important to me. So," he waved his hand nonchalantly, as if he truly didn't care. "You're free to go."

They all stared at their captor, dumbstruck. Mike snorted, and shook his head. Bob gave Gerard a disbelieving look. After a moment of confusion, the Killjoy leader stepped forward, ignoring the warning wave of the gun from the Drac covering him. "You'll let us go? Just like that?"

Jimmy smiled. "That's what I said. Get out of here before I change my mind."

Gerard gave Frank a quick glance, frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. "We can't trust you."

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. "Is it so hard to imagine you aren't the most important person is this room, Gerard?"

Once more, Gerard gave Frank a concerned glance. He knew that Jimmy's little quips were meant for his boyfriend, and the fact Frank wouldn't even _look_ at him scared Gerard to his core. With a deep breath, he replied. "Why would you just let us go. Why not kill us?"

A whimper. Finally, there was some life from the silent man in the corner. Gerard whirled round, trying to get to his boyfriend's side but once again, he was forced back. Before he could speak, Jimmy was in front of him again. This time, he looked ruffled.

"Are you as stupid as you look, Party Poison?"

Gerard's lips twitched. "No, but you obviously think I'm as stupid as _you_ look. Why the fuck would you just turn your back and let us walk out of here?" He jerked his head at the nearest Draculoid. "Your superiors will kill you when they find out, slowly and painfully." His eyes sparkled. "It's a fucking shame I won't get to see that, now I fucking think of it-"

"_That's enough!" _Jimmy grabbed at Gerard's shirt and pulled him closer. "I really think that maybe you should start being nice to me..."

Gerard grinned at him, mocking him. "And why would I want to do that?"

At that, Jimmy released his hold on Gerard, and began to smirk at him. Gerard suddenly felt unsure, and he regarded Jimmy closely, his eyes narrowing.

"Why don't I show you?"

He stepped away from Gerard, and then turned and smiled at Frank, who was staring back at him, a pleading look in his eyes. Jimmy nodded to the other man, and then called out:

"David, bring her in please."

David nodded, and then promptly left the room. Within seconds, he re-entered, pulling along behind him a girl, her hair swept forward, covering her face. David made his way forward, dragging his captive by her arm, and then almost throwing her down at Jimmy's feet. She let out a low cry when her tiny form hit the floor, and she instantly curled up in a ball, trying to protect herself from all the unwanted gazes that were locked on her.

Only Frank couldn't bear to look at her.

Gerard was frowning as he took in the cowering figure before him. He felt so sorry for trembling girl. What exactly was Jimmy's game now? And whatever is was, why the hell did he need to involve an innocent child?

"What is this?" Gerard spat at Jimmy.

The other man's cruel smile grew. He reached down, yanked the girl up by her hair, and forced her to her feet. She wriggled and whimpered in his grasp, trying to free herself, but all she managed was to cause herself more pain.

That was too much for not only Gerard, but also Mike.

"Stop it!" He yelled. "You're hurting her!"

Jimmy burst out laughing. He ignored Mike's outburst; his gaze was trained on Gerard.

"Don't you recognise her, Gerard? Doesn't she seem familiar to you?"

"Leave him alone," Frank hissed, but no one heard his whispered words.

Gerard was glaring viciously at Jimmy, his anger and pity for the child only increasing.

"You bastard!" He snarled. "Let her go!"

"Look closely," Jimmy hissed. He forced her to turn her tear stained face toward's Gerard, and with her hair ripped back, the Killjoy got a good look at her for the first time.

Gerard gazed at the girl and, as he looked, she finally met his eyes.

Eyes as big and brown as his own.

No. Those soulful eyes weren't just like his. They were his.

And they belonged to his daughter. The daughter that he had left behind so many years ago.

He let out the deep breath he didn't even know he was holding. Unable to take his eyes off the impossible sight before him, Gerard took a step forward. The Draculoid behind him grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back. Jimmy held up a hand, and the Draculoid stopped, releasing its hold on the Killjoy. Gerard hadn't even noticed the Drac had restrained him. All his attention, his focus, his very being was focused on the child standing in front of St Jimmy.

Not the child.

_His _child.

Taking his gaze off her for a second, Gerard stole a glance at Frank.

Frank raised his head and returned Gerard's stare. Gerard froze when he saw the silent tears rolling down his boyfriend's face. But then, Frank managed a pained smile and that was all Gerard needed. _That_ told him everything he wanted to know. This wasn't a trick. This wasn't another BL/I game.

This was real.

Jimmy's patience in waiting for Gerard to react had clearly grown thin. He was glaring at the Killjoy leader, his arms now wrapped around the girl's chest, holding her close to him.

"Figured out who this is yet?" Jimmy taunted, before adding, with a cold smile; "_Dad_?"

Gerard whimpered softly. He felt like he would vomit as he gaped at Jimmy, every part of him trembling. He took another uncertain step toward Jimmy and his captive, and then another, until he was standing right before them, a shaky hand reaching out toward the now clearly terrified girl.

Jimmy released her, and pushed her forward slightly, closer to Gerard. "She's yours," he whispered. "Take her."

Gerard gaped at him, stunned that Jimmy would just hand her over. He had expected a fight. Swallowing down the panic rising and threatening to choke him, Gerard knelt down infront of the girl, and smiled at her, doing his best to keep his emotions in check. It was taking every ounce of self control he had not to break down. Part of him still could not believe that this was real.

He could feel Mike and Bob's gazes on him and wondered what they were thinking. Had they worked out who she was?

His voice no louder than a whisper, Gerard breathed; "Bandit?"

Her head snapped up, and she frowned at him.

Gerard bit his lip hard, fighting back the tears threatening to spill. He had to stay strong. He had to get through this.

After a pause, he spoke again. "Do you know me?"

Bandit's probing eyes, just like his own, searched his face for a few seconds. There was silence in the room now; everyone's attentions were trained on the girl, waiting for her reply. Jimmy had stepped away from Bandit and Gerard, moving nearer to Frank, edging in front of him slightly. Frank was also watching the reunion unfold, but he wasn't smiling. On the contrary, his grief-ridden face displayed his breaking heart.

Gerard cleared his throat and tried again, his hands now grasping Bandit's arms gently, which were placed at her sides. "Bandit, please talk to me."

Bandit let out a little moan, bowing her head.

Gerard lifted her chin, until she was looking at him once more. "Please sweet heart, do you know who I am?"

She was crying now. After a few more torturous moments, she allowed herself a small nod.

A moment of glorious anticaption swept over Gerard as he watched her, waiting for her to speak.

And then, finally, she looked up and muttered to him, her sweet voice so quiet, he had to strain to hear her. "You're my daddy, aren't you?"

Gerard was certain that he had never felt anything like the joy he experienced in that moment. He brought a shaky hand up to his forehead, knowing that he had to keep it together. The last thing he could do at that second was lose it. She knew him, she hadn't forgotten. Despite all the years, she knew who he was. And he would not fall apart in front of her now. His daughter was strong; he would be the same for her.

"You remember me?" He whispered.

She continued to stare at him. "I remember..." She paused, before replying, "I remember you walking away from mommy and me." The pain of the memory was evident on her face. "I called you, but you wouldn't come back." The tears fell silently. "You left us."

"_Some dad_," Jimmy slurred from behind Bandit. "And I thought I had a rough childhood..."

"Shut your mouth, you piece of shit!" Mike snapped.

Jimmy smiled. "You need to remember who is in charge here, Dirnt." His eyes shone with power. "And it sure isn't you." He released his hold on Bandit, and then whispered in her ear:

"Do you wanna go to your Daddy, small fry?"

Gerard trembled but said nothing. David was still restraining him. All he could do was stand there and watch the bastard toy with his daughter.

Bandit turned her head slightly, and looked up at the smirking St Jimmy with wide, innocent eyes. "Yes please," she managed, her voice hoarse.

Jimmy nodded. "Of course you do. Been a long time, hasn't it? Since he abandoned you..."

Gerard visibily shook at this words, as they cut into him life a knife.

_'Jimmy was right. He had walked away, he had left his family to their fate. It was all his fault.'_

Jimmy smirked, and then hissed delicately to Bandit; "Go to him, sweetness."

Bandit did not need telling twice. With only a momentary hesitation, she let out a low sob and then hurtled forward. David did not attempt to stop Gerard as he rushed to meet her. Within seconds, she was right in front of him, there were no more barriers between them. Unable to prevent the tears, Gerard scooped her into his arms and lifted her, holding her against him, too scared to let go. He held her slightly away from him for a moment, staring at her, shaking his head in disbelief. She was smiling, even laughing gently, and he couldn't help but smile back, his own happiness threatening to engulf him. He tightened his hold on her, refusing to let her go, desperate to keep her close, feeling her little heart beat against his own chest. Only when he realised that oxygen was becoming a issue did he pull away, holding her away from him once again to stare at her, trying to lock every image of her into his mind. She was really there. He could see her, touch her, hold her. And nothing was going to separate them ever again. _Nothing. _

Gerard allowed himself to look away from Bandit for a second, turning his gaze toward his boyfriend, wanting to share the joy he was feeling with the man he loved.

But Frank still wouldn't look at him. His eyes were tightly closed, his head bowed. And when he finally opened his eyes, and they met Gerard's, the Killjoy leader saw the tears he expected to see. But there was no happiness there. Only sadness, and a sense of acceptance.

Gerard kept his gaze trained on Frank for a moment longer, and then turned his attention back to Jimmy. Seeing Jimmy's amused smirk, Gerard scowled once more.

"So," Gerard snapped. "What happens now?"

Jimmy let out a long, over exaggerated, sigh, apparently thinking it over. He then smirked, and jerked his head toward the door. "Get out of here. I'm bored of you."

Gerard stared at him, not comprehending what he was saying. There was no way in hell that he would let them leave there alive. Jimmy's own life would be foreit if he did. "What did you say?"

"Something wrong with your hearing?" Jimmy retorted, with a sneer.

Gerard glared. "I heard, but I don't believe it."

Jimmy grinned. "Take your daughter and get out of my city," He waved his hand, showing disinterest. "David will escort you to the edge of Zone Two." He shrugged. "I assume you can find your way back to your rebel friends from there?"

Gerard's intense gaze met Jimmy's "Is this for real? You're actually letting us go?"

Jimmy pursed his lips together. "You don't trust easily, do you, Gerard?"

"I don't trend to trust Exterminators, no."

"Fair point. Maybe thats why Korse enjoyed fucking you so much?"

Gerard squirmed.

Jimmy beamed. "But yes," he continued. "This is real. Take the opportunity, and don't come back."

Gerard knew that he could do nothing else. He had to believe. Feeling uncomfortable, he glanced down. "Thank you," he mumbled, and Jimmy's grin only grew ever wider.

"You're welcome," he purred. Turning to David, Jimmy ordered, "Take them to the boundary."

"The Zone boundary?" Bob suddenly threw in. "But it's night!"

"Scared of the dark, rebel?" Jimmy sneered.

Bob threw him an evil look. "You know how dangerous it is in the zones at night! We won't stand a chance-"

"Not my problem," Jimmy cut in. "And it's leave now and take your chances with the packs, or stay here and be shot on the spot. Your choice."

Bob stared at Jimmy, searching his face. When he saw only malice, he looked down, defeated.

Jimmy nodded satisfactorily. "Good decision." He turned to his second in command once more. "Take them, David."

"Yes Sir," David replied, at once. He gestured toward the door with his ray gun. Holding Bandit close to him, Gerard began to move, along with Mike and Bob, to the exit. Gerard managed a few steps before it dawned on him that Frank hadn't moved. He looked over at his boyfriend, confusion etched on his face. "Come on, Frank. Lets get the hell away from here."

Frank didn't respond to him. He remained rooted to the spot, his eyes locked on the wall behind Gerard's head. Gerard frowned, and then tried again. "Frank, what are you doing? He's letting us leave."

Frank shook his head. "Not me," he managed, his voice shaking. "I'm staying."

Gerard blinked. "You what?"

"I said, I'm staying here." Frank's gaze finally met Gerard's. "With Jimmy."

Gerard flinched. He threw a furious look to Jimmy, and then rounded once more on Frank. "Like fuck you are. Now, move."

"Get out of here, Gerard," Frank whispered.

Gerard actually laughed. This was so ridiculous to him. No chance was he leaving Frank behind.

"I'm not going without you."

Jimmy sighed impatiently. "Frank has made his decision, Poison." His cold eyes were shining. "He has chosen to remain here with me." He smirked. "In case that's had for you to understand, it means he's chosen me over you. Now, you and your rebel pals need to get out of here, before I change my mind, and have you shot on the spot." He chuckled. "What's it going to be?"

Gerard put Bandit down beside Mike, who grabbed her protectively. He then made to go for Jimmy, but again Frank spoke up, now clearly terrified.

"This is what I want, Gerard! I want to be with Jimmy. He made me remember, something you should have let him do before, and I know he saved me life. I'll be okay with him."

Gerard stared at Frank. "Then you know he raped you, for fuck sake."

Frank shook his head firmly, his fists clenched at his side.

"It wasn't rape. I wanted it."

"That is complete bullshit!"

Frank was almost beside himself. "You have Bandit now. You have your life back. Go and live it, Gerard."

Gerard gestured helplessly. "Frank, I-"

Jimmy had heard enough.

"You have your answer, Killjoy." He spat, marching forward confidently. "Frank belongs to me now."

"You think I'm fucking retarded?" Gerard retorted. "You don't think I know you made him choose? What was it, huh? You'd give me Bandit, and all of our freedoms, if he stayed with you?"

Jimmy tilted his head slightly. "Do yourself a favour, and take the gift I've given you." He pulled Frank closer. "Unless you would prefer to die in front of your daughter?"

"No!" Frank snapped. He turned on his furious lover, his tone pleading as he urged him: "Gerard, please, just go! Take Bandit, and go!"

"Frank-"

"He'll kill you otherwise."

"I know he's making you do this. You can't trust him. I won't leave you-"

"You have to. Please. Do this for me."

And the two men stared at each other, both gazing at the other in helplessness.

Despite his wishes, Gerard knew he would have to accept defeat. There was nothing he could do for Frank at that moment. For Bandit's sake, he had to give in.

_For now._

"This isn't over," Gerard told Jimmy, with absolute clarity. "You'll see me again. And when you do, I'm gonna fucking kill you."

Jimmy chuckled. "So long, Cherry Top." Gerard bristled, and then glanced at Frank one more time. His heart was breaking and he could see, despite Frank's best efforts to hide his true feelings, that the other man felt the same. With one last look of hatred at Jimmy, Gerard slowly followed Mike and Bob out of the room, Bandit once again grasped in his arms.

Jimmy watched him go, and then laughed softly. At last, it was done. He looked over at Frank, who refused to meet his eyes. A flicker of anger awoke within Jimmy, and he moved quickly toward Frank, who flinched at the sudden movement.

Jimmy saw this, and he paused thoughtfully. Frank was afraid of him. That wouldn't do.

He didn't want Frank's fear. He wanted his love.

He smiled, and then cleared his throat. "Are you hungry? I can get some food brought in for us?" He took a step toward the nervous Killjoy. "I don't want you to be frightened of me, Frank. I'm not going to hurt you."

Frank didn't reply at once. He stared at Jimmy, trying to figure out what the man that had complete control wanted to hear. Frank was in Battery City, and he was alone. Of course he was scared.

In the end, all he chose to do was nod.

Jimmy seemed satisfied. "Great. Why don't you go through to the living area? You'll be more comfortable there."**  
**

Frank swallowed, and then did as he was told, moving toward the doorway leading further into Jimmy's rooms.

Jimmy watched him go, a smug smile on his lips. Frank was with him and it was perfect. He had everything he wanted right there, and Gerard Way was no longer a problem.

_'I've won.'_

He smirked.

XXX

Michael was having trouble sleeping.

He, Leon and Electra had decided to have a short rest before they embarked on the last leg of their journey. The girl had been exhausted, and Leon had also drifted off, but Michael had again been plagued by bad dreams.

They were the same as usual, the red haired man coming to him and talking, telling him he was coming for him and to hold on... just hold on...

He had woken with a start, sweating badly. There hadn't only been the red head in the dream this time. The two other men had been stood beside him, both smiling at Michael. One had been the curly haired man, the rebel Michael had met in that base that day. The day that had changed everything for him.

And the rebel had called to him in the dream. He had called him Mikey, just as he had before.

Michael had known that he had been Mikey, although he wasn't anymore. Could he be again? Michael didn't know, he just wished he could remember his life before he had been reprogrammed. In more than just dreams. He wanted those memories back. Those that _she_ had stolen from him. Maybe the Killjoys could bring them back for him? That was his hope. It was the only chance he had.

He sighed, and rolled over once again, trying to get comfortable. He needed to stop thinking, he needed his brain to give him a break. All he ever knew now was questions and some how, he wanted answers. One way or another...

"James!"

Michael jumped. He sat up quickly, and found Johan crouched over him. Michael blinked, trying to focus on the young man.

"Johan?" He asked, looking around, but could see no one else. "What's wrong?"

"I need your help." Johan replied quickly. "I've found an injured rebel. You have to come."

Michael furrowed his brow. "A rebel? What do you mean? Where?"

"In an abandoned barn, about a mile away." Johan hissed. "He's hurt pretty bad. I think he's been shot."

Michael hesitated. Johan had shown his clear dislike for him earlier. Why would he come to him now?

"Johan-" He began, but the boy cut across him.

"I think he's a Killjoy. Please, James. Please come."

Michael quickly looked toward the other members of the party, still sound asleep. His gaze fell on the peaceful looking rebel. He didn't want to leave him. Not after what had happened earlier that evening, with Viper...

"We have to wake Leon, he'll know-"

"No!" Johan snapped, a little too desperately, and Michael frowned, recoiling slightly.

Johan took a moment to steady his voice, before he spoke again.

"There's no time, and Leon is not as fast as you and me. He'll slow us down. And he can't leave the sick rebel, can he? Not with Electra. Anything could happen to them." He reached out toward Michael. "Besides, the Killjoy is asking for Kobra Kid. It's all he's been saying. He keeps on asking, over and over, 'Where is Kobra?' He lowered his tones. "And he said another name, too. Mikey."

Michael looked up sharply. "He used that name? He actually said Mikey?"

"Yeah," Johan replied quickly. "He said it a couple of times. He's only mumbling, he's getting weaker. We need to hurry-"

Michael grabbed the boy's arm, and he jumped back slightly. Michael released him at once and held a hand up to apologise.

"What does he look like, this rebel?"

Johan frowned. "I dunno. Quite tall." He paused. "He does have mad, curly hair."

Michael gasped. A image flashed across his mind. He saw the rebel, the rebel from the house, staring up at him with wide disbelieving eyes. The man that had used the name that had changed everything.

'Mikey.'

Michael covered his face with his hands as he tried to deal with all of this.

"The man is a Killjoy," he whispered. "We can't let him die."

"Please," Johan hissed, urgently. "If we are gonna go, we have to move now." He waved the torch impatiently. "Are you coming, or not?"

With one last long glance at the sleeping Billie Joe and Leon, and feeling the the safeness that he had felt with them, Michael gritted his teeth. He had made up his mind. Dragging himself up onto his feet, he turned back to Johan, who was now shining the torch at Michael's face. There was no other option for him. If the Killjoy was really out there, he could be hurt and Michael couldn't let the man die. Especially as he was asking for him, asking for 'Mikey' anyway. Michael _needed_ to see him. He needed to know the truth. All he wanted was to belong somewhere, anywhere, and something deep inside of him had been telling, for a long time, that he would belong with the Killjoys.

And besides, he wanted to trust Johan.

Throwing on his cloak, he nodded to the younger man.

"Lead on."

XXX

As Gerard, Bob and Mike made fast progress through the City, with David striding out ahead and a patrol of Draculoids behind them, Gerard felt so vulnerable. All citizens stopped, turned and stared as they went by and Gerard understood why. Despite hearing all about rebels for so long, most of the occupants of the City had never actually seen one. They'd never had a chance afterall; it had been so long since they had last left the boundary. What reason did they have to leave, Gerard reasoned. They had everything they needed right there, on constant supply by Better Living. These poor people lived for their drugs, they didn't know their whole existances were a charade. They were allowed to live their lives as long as the company stayed in complete control. And until they all could finally have their eyes opened, and see the Corporation for what it truly was, as all the rebels had once done, nothing would change.

Better Living ruled. That was the way it was.

Gerard pursed his lips together. Oh yes, BL/I still had the upper hand. But the battle wasn't over. While they still had breath, the Killjoys would keep fighting back. Gerard would never stop. He would get Frank back, and Jimmy would pay for what he had done to them.

He held Bandit closer to him, protecting her from the continuous stares. He was so impressed with her bravery, her strength. She was holding on to him, but she wasn't scared. He wouldn't have blamed her if she had been. She was so small, and the City was so huge and threatening, with so many people. But she was doing him proud, staying not only calm, but also alert.

She reminded him so much of her mom.

His heart hurt when he thought of Lindsey. If only she could have been there too, for them all to have been reunited. Some day soon, Bandit would ask him what had happened to her mother, and Gerard would tell her the truth. Lindsey died fighting the bastards that had tried to destroy the very person she was. And she had loved to Bandit to the very end.

Bandit needed to know that.

Suddenly, David held up a hand, and the party came to a sudden halt. He turned, very slowly, and smiled at Gerard.

"This is far enough." He told him, and then brandished his ray gun, aimed it straight at Gerard's head. "There has been a slight change of plan, I'm afraid." He prepared to fire.

Gerard didn't hesitate. He threw himself at David, knocking the man flying. Before David could recover, and give his brainless drones instructions, Gerard was on his feet again, and grabbing desperately for Bandit.

"Scarper!" Gerard hissed, pulling Bandit along with him. Mike ran in one direction, Bob in the other. Gerard lost sight of them both, heading for the cover of a small building to the left of them. He could hear Bandit panting and gasping beside him, and he knew she was scared. He gritted his teeth. They had to find cover; they were in sitting duck out in the open. A ray gun blast whizzed by his right ear, actually singing his hair, and he breathed deeply. Grabbing Bandit somewhat roughly, he threw them both behind the wall, listening as the blasts struck the bricks all around them. He lay flat on his stomach for a moment, waiting for the sounds of the shots to die down, and when he could no longer the weapons, he lifted his head warily, looking immediately for Bandit, and drawing a deep breath when he saw her lying beside him, apparently unharmed.

"Bandit," he began, "Are you-"

Her scream told him everything he needed to know. Whirling round, and feeling her small arms wrapping themselves around him, he saw that his plan to find them cover had backfired – badly. Another patrol of Draculoids had come at them from the other angle, and were now pinning them against the wall, all their ray guns raised and ready to fire. They stood, perfectly still, waiting for their leader. Gerard gripped Bandit, pushing her behind him, doing everything he could to shield her.

"Listen to me," Gerard whispered, although he knew full well it was hopeless. These were drones, completely incapable of independent fault. That was the only reason he and Bandit had a few more seconds of life, they had to wait for the order to end their prisoners lives. They couldn't possibly make that decision by themselves. Even though he knew that, he still had to try. For his daughter's sake, not his own. "She's just a kid. You don't have to-"

"Child or not," David snapped, walking around the side of the building. "A rebel is a rebel."

Gerard took a step forward, and then paused, disheartened to see Mike being dragged along behind David by two more Dracs. The Green Day guitarist was thrown forwards, into Gerard, to join him and Bandit against the wall. David indicated to the Draculoids, whose fingers instantly covered their triggers.

"Please," Gerard pleaded. "Let my daughter live. She doesn't deserve-"

David smiled. "I have my orders, Killjoy. You are all sentenced to death."

Gerard gestured helplessly. "But Jimmy told you-"

David's smile increased. "Exterminator Saint is not the highest authority in Battery City, Party Poison. It has been decided that you are too dangerous to keep alive. You are all to die, I suggest you try being thankful that it will be quick and relatively painless. A very fortunate ending I feel, for Zone scum like yourselves."

He raised his hand. "Prepare to fire."

_This is it,_ Gerard thought. _Bandit and I, we go together. _He glanced across quickly at Mike, who had closed his eyes tightly.

Gerard did the same.

He tightened his hold on Bandit's hand, and as he waited for David to give the order, he thought of the three men that he owed his life to.

And then the area exploded with shouts and gun blasts. They were thrown to the ground by the force of the blasts all around them. They could hear Draculoids being cut down all around them and they stayed down, to frightened to move.

One thing was for certain, somebody had turned up in the nick of time, and were killing the Draculoids one by one.

Had someone come to their rescue?

Gerard reached out for Bandit, and heard her moan. At least he knew she was alive.

And then he heard the menacing sound of something moving close to him.

Seeing a discarded Drac gun lying beside him, Gerard quickly grabbed it and, as fast as ever he was, he lifted it, aimed at the Draculoid baring down on them, and fired. The Drac was hit at point blank range, and fell at once.

Gerard and Mike stared at each other in shock for a few seconds. They had really thought that their number was up. How had they been saved this time? Gerard looked up to see David running away from the smoke left by the blasts. He quickly aimed the Drac gun and swore angrily, noting that David was just out of range.

Suddenly, a new voice rang out.

"You guys!" The voice yelled. "Move your asses!"

Mike helped Bandit up and checked her over. She didn't have a scratch.

Then, he and the girl moved to join Gerard, who had approached the rebels that had just saved their lives. He saw bodies lying on the ground, human and Drac, and he knew rebels had lost their lives too.

Just like that town that day.

The day Bert had returned.

"Fuck me." Show Pony exclaimed, bringing Gerard out of his musings, as he and the other survivors drew closer. "Party Poison? I don't believe it! What it is about you fucking Killjoys?"

Gerard laughed. "Hey Pony," he told him. "Good timing!"

Show Pony smirked. "All we wanted to do was check the boundary walls out. Turns out we've done a lot better than expected!" He grinned. "You look good. For a dead man."

The Killjoy laughed, and then searched the faces of the rest of the rebels, who were all gazing at him with a mixture of astonishment and delight.

Then, Gerard saw him, and suddenly, there was only one man there as far as he was concerned.

Ray Toro was with them.

Ray surged forward. Gerard's eyes widened when he saw him moving. The emotion surged deep within him, and he took a step toward the younger man, tears already threatening to spill.

Ray, however, did not react how Gerard would have expected.

"Glad you're okay, Gerard!" The guitarist said, and threw his arm around his former singer, and squeezed.

"Likewise," Gerard replied, quietly. He was staring stupidly at Ray.

"Where's Frankie?"

"Still in there."

Ray nodded. "We'll get him."

Gerard couldn't find the words. He just contiued to gape at the man he hadn't seen for so long.

The man that had surely fought he was dead.

"What?" Ray quizzed, frowning slightly. "What you all staring at?"

"Ray!" Bandit squeeled, hurrying forward.

Ray laughed, then scooped up Bandit and hugged her. Gerard watched them, his gaze locked on Ray.

"It's fucking good to see you, sweetheart." Ray told the girl. "Thought I'd lost you."

"Only Bob and Frank not accounted for," Mike reported. He was glancing questionally at Ray, clearly shocked at his nonchalent reaction to Gerard's ressurection. "We can't stay here. We'll be cut down."

"Frank is still in there." Gerard said softly, seemingly taking it all in his stride. "He exchanged himself for our freedom." He narrowed his eyes. "We were fucking stupid to trust Jimmy." He quickly looked around. "We need to find Bob."

And with that, Ray moved past Gerard, firing a shot at the only Drac left alive, and it fell down at once. "There'll be more," he told them, knowingly. "We've got minutes before they send another load after us. We've got Bandit, Mike and Gerard. We've done okay. If we go after Frank now, we'll be outnumbered." He jerked his head at Gerard. "We need a strategy if we are gonna get him out."

Gerard blinked in confusion, and then pursed his lips together. He paused, waiting for the inevitable moment that was coming.

And then, sure enough, realisation hit.

Ray stopped. With is ray gun still pointing toward what remained of the Draculoids he had just dealt with, he turned very slowly, and gaped at the Killjoy leader.

The other rebels were just as flummoxed as he was. Show Pony was staring open mouthed at Gerard. Mike was looking from Ray, and then back to Gerard, with some amusement. Ray clearly did not trust the evidence of his own eyes.

Gerard Way could not be standing a few feet away from him. It was impossible.

Yet, there he was. Very much alive.

Ray could have broken down, there and then, quite easily.

"Gerard?" He managed, his voice breaking.

Gerard couldn't help it. He allowed himself a small smile.

"Hi Ray."

Ray shook his head. "But it's_ you."_

Gerard raised an eyebrow. "Thanks for finally noticing."

Ray tossed his head, trying to clear it. "But... You're... I saw that factory explode. You were in there." A shaky hand covered his mouth. "_How_?"

Gerard tilted his head slightly. "It's a really long fucking story." He reached out. He didn't want to talk, he just wanted to hold his friend. "Right now, why don't you just come the fuck here and hug me?"

Ray laughed.

Mike was smiling now, he felt truly happy for them. What he would give for one more moment with the band mates he'd lost. He stepped back, allowing the two best friends the moment they needed.

Just as Ray took a unsteady step toward his former singer, a shout from Mike turned all of their attentions to him.

"Bob! Over here!"

They all looked to see the drummer making his way over to the rest of the group. He didn't seem hurt, or concerned for his or any of their safety. If anything, he looked completely unconcerned

Gerard released Bandit's hand to rush to Bob's side. "You okay?"

Bob pulled away, and then eyed Gerard. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I saw that you had three Dracs right on your heels!" Mike snapped to him. "How did you get away?"

Bob's gaze met that of the three men watching him.

"I fought them off." He replied, and then shrugged. "Come on, guys. Three stupid Dracs? It was nothing."

They all stood there for a moment, staring at Bob. Gerard's eyes narrowed, disbelievingly. He opened his mouth to question his old band mate further, when an explosion of blasts suddenly eurpted around them.

"We gotta move!" Show Pony announced, firing off to more shots into the smoke over Bandit's head. "There's too fucking many of them!" A Draculoid fell as he fired again. "Get in the car now!"

"We can't just leave," Gerard argued. "We have to go back for Frank!"

Ray grabbed his friend's arm. "Gee, it's already a fucking miracle that you're alive. It'll be asking too much to try and get back in that City now. There's only a handful of us, against a fucking army. We gotta go."

Gerard shook his head. "But we can't just leave him-"

"Think of Bandit," Mike cut in. "You have to get her to safety first, then we can start planning a rescue mission for Frank." He got right in Gerard's face, desperate to convince him. "This isn't about us abandoning him, Gerard. We stay here now and we don't stand a chance. We come back, with a plan, and we might just get lucky." He pointed to Bandit. "But right now, she needs her Dad alive and putting her first. Lets get back to the base."

Ray nodded, in total agreement with Mike. "It's the right thing to do, Gee. You know it is."

Gerard did know. His head bowed in defeat, he looked back one more time at the City. Then, he turned back to Ray, gesturing to the Transporter.

"Lets get the fuck away from here."

Ray gave him a relieved smile. They both rushed toward the car and once he saw that Bandit was safely inside, Gerard turned to Ray, and nodded to him.

"We'll get him back, Gee."

Gerard nodded. "I know."

"And, and Gerard?" Ray added

"Yeah?"

"It's fucking incredible to see you, man."

And then Gerard and Ray were embracing, holding each other so tightly it was as if their lives depended on it.

Maybe they did.

Show Pony was out of the car again in seconds, when leg still placed inside the vehicle. He was glaring at them incredulously.

"Sorry to break this up, gents," he spat. "But can we leave the manlove until we are back home?" He slammed his fist into the top of the car. "Let's fucking _ride_!"

The Killjoys pulled apart.

Pony nodded as he watched them leap into the car, Gerard in the back with Bandit, Ray in the front.

And then, with ray gun blasts striking the car uselessly, the Transporter roared into life, and carried them all away from the danger.

And from Frank.

_For then, at least._

XXX

Frank and Jimmy were in the Exterminator's dining area, and had been waited on hand and foot since they had sat down. They were "enjoying" a steak dinner, and Frank's wine glass had been constantly filled every time he had found himself getting low. He couldn't deny that the food and drink was of the highest quality. The company really did have the best of everything.

At the expense of everyone else, of course. They were treated like royalty while people out in the Zones died of starvation. Frank had pointed this out, only for Jimmy to have given him a disapporving look and had explained himself with one word: "Rebels."

That had put Frank off his food instantly.

And besides, no matter how good the steak was, the atmosphere left a lot to be desired.

Not that Jimmy wasn't trying, of course.

"I thought I would show you the City tomorrow." The Extermintor offered, pleasantly. "There's a lot here that will surprise you."

Frank eyed him, but didn't reply.

Jimmy frowned, but kept his smile plastered on his face. "Would you like that, babe?"

The Killjoy shrugged. "Whatever."

Jimmy nodded, apparenly satisfied. "I want you to have a good life with me, Frankie. You'll soon fit right in, you'll see."

Frank glanced at him, and then lowered his fork. He couldn't deal with the small talk anymore.

"Jimmy," he muttered. "What do you expect from me?"

Jimmy frowned. "_Expect_, Frank? Strange choice of words."

Frank sighed. "What do you think is going to happen? You're forcing me to-"

At that, Jimmy slammed down his glass, and Frank flinched.

"Forcing you? Did I force you to accept my offer? You could have walked out of this City with the other rebels but you chose to stay here, with me."

Frank shook his head. "Of course you're forcing me. I wouldn't be here if you hadn't threatened a child's life!"

Jimmy was suddenly very agitated, and Frank shrunk back, trying to make himself as small as possible. "I don't want you to feel like I'm forcing you, Frankie. I want you to be here because you want to be."

Frank raised an eyebrow. "Well, I can't give you that."

Jimmy pursed his lips together. "Maybe one day."

"I love Gerard," Frank stated, his tone unwavering. "That won't change."

Jimmy had heard enough. With an angry snort, he slammed his glass down. "Yeah? Well, maybe you can love me too."

Frank couldn't stop himself. He actually laughed.

Very quickly, he knew he had made a big mistake. Jimmy was suddenly on his feet, his face red and flaming, as he furiously sent his plate, and all his food, flying of the table, and tumbling on to the floor. Frank was surprised by the violent reaction, and he recoiled back into his seat, trying to edge away from the raging man, but he had nowhere to go. Jimmy, still seething with anger, stormed round the table and leaned down menacingly over the smaller man.

"I don't want to hear you talking about Cherry Top again. Ever. Do you hear me?"

Frank glowered back at him. "I can't shut my feelings off as easy as that, sorry." He balled his hands into fists. Just who did Jimmy think he was? Frank Iero was no one's bitch. Yes, Jimmy had won. But Frank was not about to make the victory enjoyable for him. He stared up at Jimmy, his eyes narrowing. "Or do you want me to lie to you?"

Jimmy glared down at Frank, searching his face, clearly attempting again to work the other man out. Taking him by surprise once more, Jimmy darted forward, placing his hands on either side of Frank's face, smiling down on him like a predator. Frank could only stay still, gazing up at him, unnerved. "What I want, Frank," Jimmy breathed, "Is you. Just you. Everything you are, and more." And then, he pressed his lips against the other man's. Frank tried to voice his displeasure, moaning, trying to pull away but Jimmy held on firmly. As the kiss devloped, becoming more passionate, Frank's struggles also increased. He was disgusted; the feeling of his rapist's slimy lips against his. Finally, he gained the upper hand, and shoved out, forcing Jimmy away from him. They both gaped at eachother, breathing harshly.

"Don't you fucking touch me!" Frank hissed.

Jimmy struck at once, hitting Frank full in the face and catching him unawares. Frank lost his balance and his chair toppled over, sending him crashing to the ground. Jimmy stood over him fuming, clearly just preventing himself from continuing his attack. Frank could see from the man's stance that he wanted to kick him, and he flinched, waiting for further blows. But they never came.

With an angry snarl, Jimmy turned and marched from the room, slamming the door behind him, and not giving Frank another glance. He left Frank behind, slumped on the floor, what was left of their first dinner together surrounding him.

The Killjoy lowered his eyes to the ground, and let out a deep breath.

One thing was certain. He was in big trouble.

XXX

Michael was following closely behind Johan, moving quickly through the darkness. Every so often, Johan would pause and look back over his shoulder, apparently checking that Michael was still with him. They were both breathing harshly, the punishing smoke and dirt and sand whipped up by the wind constantly getting into their eyes. Both of their faces were covered, Johan by a bandanna, Michael's by the Draculoid's mask that had saved him before.

Unable to go much further, Michael halted, and then bent over, his arms wrapped round his chest as he attempted to breath something other than the cruel air. He called over to Johan, who stopped and turned, regarding Michael with a frown.

"What's wrong?" He snapped, holding a hand up to protect himself as he glared at Michael. "We have to keep going."

"How much further?" Michael demanded.

Johan threw him a disdainful look, and then chuckled. "You're not used to the Zones, are you, James?"

Michael glanced up. "I've been in the City since I was captured," he replied. "This is all new to me." He coughed to emphasise his point. "It's tough."

"It's our life," Johan told him. He then offered his hand to the pained man. "The Killjoy is waiting for us. He was desperate to see you. If we don't hurry, we'll be too late and..." His words trailed off, instead choosing to gesture helplessly. After a moment, he added, "You don't want to let him down, do you?"

Michael closed his eyes. "And the Killjoy called me "Mikey?"

Johan managed a small smile. "Yeah. He knows you, definitely. So lets not waste any more time. The hut is really close by." He grimaced as he looked over at the never ending desert behind them. "It's dangerous being out here so late as it is, in the dark. The packs will be prowling."

Michael opened his eyes again at that. "Packs?" He questioned.

Johan's lips twitched. "Dogs," he explained. "Very hungry, very nasty, very big, dogs." He offered his hand to Michael. "They're out there right now, hunting."

"Hunting what?"

"Us."

That was all Michael needed to hear. He took Johan's hand and together, they hurried the rest of the way. Finally, Johan pointed out a small dark barn in a clearing. It looked very secluded, and not very welcoming.

Michael felt even more uncertain.

"That's it?" He whispered. "The Killjoy is in there?"

"Yes," Johan replied. "If he's still alive. Follow me."

He rushed up to the small building, placed his hand on the door handle, and waited for Michael to join him. After a few more prescious moments of indecision, Michael moved to stand beside Johan, who nodded to him and then pushed open the door. He then indicated for Michael to go in ahead of him.

"It's okay," Johan urged. "He's been asking for you, remember?"

With a sigh, Michael edged into the barn.

It was pitch black inside. Michael couldn't see a thing. But he knew someone was in there with him, some one in front of him.

"Hello?" He whispered. "Someone there?"

A cold chuckle greeted his ears. Michael's blood froze. He knew that chuckle...

He heard a noise, and suddenly light flooded the small barn. He turned quickly, and saw Johan standing beside a table, a lantern in his hand. Johan was smiling at him.

He heard a voice from behind him.

"Hello there, _Michael._"

Michael's heart sank even further. He didn't turn at once, just continued to stare at Johan.

"What have you done?" He muttered.

Johan glared at him. "Sorry, Exterminator, but last time I checked, you're the enemy."

"What's wrong, Michael?" That hated voice came again. "Are you scared?"

Michael turned to face the smirking Viper. Skull and Jex, also sneering at the captured Michael, were flanking him. "It's good to know your real name finally, Exterminator." Then, without warning, Viper struck, smashing Michael over the head with a pole. Michael didn't stand a chance. The darkness surrounded him, and fell into it gladly. He didn't know any more.

Viper grinned as the younger man hit the ground, bloody pouring from the wound on his forehead. The four men surrounded the unconcious man, all leaning down over him.

Viper smiled coldly.

"Well done, Johan." He purred. "Good job."

He then gazed back down at their new prisoner.

"It's time for some justice."

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

**Surprise! Bet you weren't expecting this, were you? :) Here's a really quick update for you. I should warn you, this might be the nastiest stuff I've ever written and if you've read all the fics in this series, you know that means it will be bad. There's everything in this chapter, violence, torture, oral and anal rape. If that's too much for you, better skip this one. I actually found some of it upsetting to write. **

**Please keep the reviews coming. Thanks guys! And big thanks to Amy for checking this through for me. You're amazing hun.**

**Purifying Flame**

**Chapter Thirteen**

He was hurting.

That was the first thing Michael became aware of once he had regained his senses. The second was that he had no idea where he was. He held a shaky hand up to his forehead, realising that he was in a small dark room, lit brightly by a lantern and two candles just in his eye line, flickering on a nearby table.

Confused, he tried to move, but the thumping in his head quickly had him collapsing back down to the floor with a heavy sigh. All his limbs ached. He had no idea what had happened, how he had gotten there. One moment, he'd been rushing through the desert, Johan at his side, and then he'd felt the blow to the back of his head, and everything had-

He froze. _Johan._

Was the boy there too? Was he hurt?

"Johan?" He muttered.

A cold chuckle rang in his ears.

Michael's heart fell. He knew that sound only too well.

And then it all came crashing back to him. The barn. Viper. And then pain.

Johan had led him, like a moth attracted to a flame, had led him straight into Viper's hands. And, like a fool, he'd fallen for it completely.

And now he was about to get badly burned.

Michael shook his head, trying to clear the pounding. Touching his forehead gingerly, he moved his hand away to find it covered in blood. He'd taken a nasty blow to the head, it would seem. He glanced around, grimacing, and then looked up into Viper's smirking face. The man's eyes were blazing as he glared down at him, triumph etched on his face. Moving slightly, Michael saw, as expected, that Jex and Skull were also still close by, grinning cruelly down at him.

After a pause, apparently to allow his dire situation to sink in, Viper crouched down in front of the bewildered Michael. "Glad you could make it, Exterminator."

"What the fuck are you doing?" Michael snapped, his voice not sounding as strong as he'd have liked. "Where am I?"

Viper's grin widened. "About a mile from the camp, I'm guessing. We found this old barn while out hunting a couple of days ago. Figured it would be perfect..."

His words only increased Michael's sense of unease. Resisting the impulse to question what it was perfect for exactly, instead Michael demanded; "Where's Johan?"

"I'm right here!" Johan suddenly pushed forward, Michael's gun clasped in both of his hands. "Don't pretend you care! You thought I was a sucker, didn't you? Believing your lies just like Electra and Leon? I'm not that fucking stupid, you asshole!

Michael blinked painfully. "Johan-" He began, hoping to reason with the lad, but Viper grabbed a fistful of his hair, causing him to end his sentence with a pained gasp.

"No, _James_," he scoffed, spitefully. "Johan doesn't want to hear what you have to say, or answer any more of your questions. All you need to know is that he finally saw through your little act." He leaned closer. "_I'm_ the one _you've_ gotta answer too now. And I've got some questions for you."

"Go to hell," Michael hissed.

Viper smiled. "You gotta serious attitude problem, pretty. Lets see if we can do something about that..."

Michael had heard enough. With an angry yell, he leapt up, knocking Viper out of the way, and then tried to barge his way past Skull, heading for the door just beyond him, but he didn't make it, as he was grabbed roughly around the middle by Viper, and bundled unceremoniously to the ground. He instantly raised his arms to protect his face and head, knowing he couldn't defend himself from the onslaught he knew he was about to face.

Sure enough, the beatings began to rain down on him, and all he could do was lie there, curled up on his side, and take every blow. They tired eventually, just as he knew they would. They stopped the blows, and stood over him, admiring their wicked handiwork. Michael stayed down, hoping they would believe he had already submitted, and was incapable of causing them any further problems.

His instinct worked. The three Scavengers were talking excitedly to each other, stating that the 'BL/I scum' was weak, and no threat to them. Viper told his two friends to wait there, and then moved to the corner of the room, where Johan was perched, and toying with Michael's gun, and began to rummage through his pack. He found what he was looking for, and let out an eager exclamation.

Michael didn't want to wait to see what Viper had in his bag. Whatever it was, he knew it wouldn't be anything good for him.

He also knew he only had one chance to make a break for it, and he had to take it. Assuming that he was in too much pain to cause a problem, the three men moved back, giving Michael a tiny amount of space. That was their first mistake, and he didn't hesitate. Gritting his teeth to fight through the agony coming off of his beaten body in waves, he suddenly sparked into life, shoving Viper backwards, knocking the surprised man into Skull, and, unbalanced, they both fell to the floor. Jex took a few moments to recover from Michael's sudden, unexpected recovery, and by the time he had realised what was happening, Michael was level with Johan, and grabbing for the door handle.

"STOP HIM!" Viper bellowed, and then Johan was suddenly grabbing for the escaping man. Michael had no choice. He elbowed the kid in the face, and heard Johan's shocked cry of pain. And then, the grip on his arm was gone. He was free to leave... One chance... With a gasp of effort, Michael threw open the door, and as quickly as he were able in his weak and pained state, he limped down the steps, and took off across the sand.

It took him seconds to ascertain that Johan was right behind him.

"Help me!" Michael yelled, knowing it was useless. The desert was silent. There was no one to hear his pleas. No one but those that wanted to do him harm...

He'd actually managed to stagger a few steps before he was tackled from behind, and landed face down in the sand with a small cry. He struggled feebly, trying to wriggle free from underneath his attacker. He didn't know which of them had him pinned and he didn't care. He knew he was fighting for his very life, and his one slim chance of escape was quickly slipping away...

"Stay still, Exterminator;" A voice hissed in his ear, and he knew it was Johan who was on top of him. "You're gonna get what's fucking coming to you..."

"Johan," Michael gasped. "Don't do this. You're not like them."

Michael found himself being hurled up, Johan holding him by his throat, and then dragging him backwards, back to that damned hut.

"Please!" Michael begged, no longer caring about pride, or not showing his fears. "Please stop, Johan! Listen to me!" He knew that if he was taken back into the building, he would very likely never see out of it again. And the thought terrified him.

He didn't want to die.

"Listen to you?" Johan spat. "You're an Exterminator. Every word that ever came out of your mouth was a lie. You're one of _them_."

He continued to pull Michael back, shrugging off the skinny man's efforts to dislodge his hold. Very soon, they were back at the hut, and Johan was dragging his desperate captive back through the still open door. Michael was frantically grabbing at the walls, using his finger nails to claw at the wood, desperate to stop their progress. But it was a futile attempt. Johan all but picked the other man up, and bundled him back inside, throwing him on the ground, in front of Viper and his gang. Michael lay at Viper's feet, trembling with helplessness and fear, as he gazed up into the face of the smirking man.

Viper grinned at Johan. "Well done, lad." He then leaned over Michael, leering down at him, smirking smugly.

"Where did you think you were going, Michael, huh?"

Michael closed his eyes tightly. He knew all hope was lost now. To these men, he was simply the Exterminator that rampaged his way through rebel camp after rebel camp, slaughtering hundreds of innocent people without even a backward glance. He knew they would not listen to a word he had to say and how could he blame them? He was that man. He was the masked Exterminator. He had blindly followed his orders like the good soldier he had been reprogrammed to be, never bothering to stop and question the morality of his instructions. He simply picked up his ray gun, and got on with it. The victims had not mattered to him, they had not even been people. They had simply been vermin that had needed removing. Until the day he had clapped eyes on the Killjoy. The man who had looked at him with such kindness, such hope. That was when everything had changed. And now, right at the end, did Michael finally understand. How could he possibly have killed that Killjoy, seeing as how he was one himself?

As he stared up into those merciless gazes, knowing his time was running out, he wished he could remember what being a Killjoy had felt like, just once. And then he would be ready for it to end.

"How does it feel?" Viper continued, softly. "Knowing it's _your _turn to suffer?"

Michael said nothing. He cast his eyes down, and gazed at the floor.

Viper chuckled. He then held up his right hand, allowing Michael to see the whip that he had been holding behind his back. Michael stared at the ominous object for a moment, and then reverted his gaze back to Viper. The other man was breathing hard, clearly excited about what was about to happen.

"You're gonna fucking pay for what you did to them," Viper snarled. "I'll make you fucking _scream._"

A spark of defiance flickered up within Michael, and he pursed his lips together. "You won't," he stated, simply.

Viper tilted his head slightly. "Is that right?"

Michael defiantly held the other man's stare.

Drawing himself up to his full height once more, Viper gestured to Skull and Jex. "Get him up!"

They moved quickly to obey, grabbing Michael by his arms and pulling him to his feet. They then looked toward Viper, waiting for his further instructions.

Viper's cold smile increased. "Now, tie him to that beam over there," he barked, with a jerk of his head. "Have him facing it, so he's got his back to us." He gripped Skull's wrist. "And make the fucking knots _hurt_, you get me?"

Skull grinned, and then, with Jex's help, he forced Michael over to the far wall. Michael didn't make it easy for them, fighting against the two men every step of the way. It was inevitable he would lose the battle however; he was down two against one and had also taken such a vicious beating mere minutes before. Hearing Viper's cruel chuckle from behind him, Michael soon found himself tied to the beam, just as Viper had directed, his back on display, prepared for the agony Viper was about to let loose on hi,. Although he tried with all his might not to show his fear, Michael couldn't stop the tremors running through his damaged body. And he knew that it was about to get a whole lot worse.

"You done?" Viper snapped, impatient for the punishment to begin.

"He's not going anywhere," Skull told him, with a smirk.

"Get over here then," Viper ordered. "And lets get this show on the road."

Michael knew how much pleasure all of the men were taking in their victory, and it sickened him. Yes, he had killed. And he probably deserved what was coming to him, but he never felt any perverse satisfaction in the suffering he had dealt out. It had been his job, simple as that. His self hatred stemmed from the fact that he never questioned what they were making him do, not that he carried out the acts themselves. He was programmed to obey, his conditioning made it impossible to do anything else. But then he had broken their control, had begun to think for himself. And he had turned his back on them.

That willpower had led him to this.

"Why didn't I fight sooner?" He mumbled, under his breath.

If the others had heard him speak, they didn't react. He knew they wanted to make him suffer, and he couldn't blame them. Everything he had done in the name of Better Living had caught up with him. He would take his comeuppance like a man.

_'He would make Gerard proud.'_

He shook his head, trying to clear the strange thoughts. He didn't even _know_ who Gerard was. Why was he thinking about him? He gritted his teeth and held his breath.

One feeling he couldn't ignore: he _knew _he had so much to live for.

He would see the Killjoys again. He didn't know why, but he knew this was important, and he had to hold on to it.

He would find himself again.

_If he survived what was coming to him..._

"Are you ready, Exterminator?" Viper asked him. The delight in his tone was clear, and it turned Michael's stomach. "Shall we begin?"

Michael didn't bother to respond to his tormentor. He had nothing to say.

_'Get on with it,'_ he urged silently.

His shirt was already off, Skull and Jex having torn it from him when they'd secured him to the beam. He flinched as he heard the crunch of Viper's boots on the dirt and gravel behind him, and then tried to brace himself for the pain about to come.

He heard the tell tale swish of the lash through the air a second before it hit, and he couldn't help but arch his back in agony when that cruel leather ripped through his flesh, tearing a long, thick red line through his unprotected skin.

Seconds later, the whip hit his back again with a sharp _crack._ This time, Michael barely flinched, eyes blank and staring as he leaned against the beam, trying to keep almost motionless. He gasped as Viper flexed his arm again, and the whip hit it's target once more, this time catching him on his shoulder.

_Crack!_

The next blow was to his lower back, and he let out a stifled cry. Whimpering softly now, Michael could feel the first drops of blood running down his back. It had only taken three hits to make him bleed. He wondered how many it would take to kill him? He closed his eyes tightly when he heard his torturer let out an angry, frustrated snarl and hit after hit began to rain down on his back.

_Crack!_

There was no way he could protect himself, nothing he could do to stop the ferocious attack. All he could do was stay there, slumped in his bonds, waiting for Viper to grow tired, or until he beat him into submission. Either choice would be a welcome release to Michael. His back was burning, and splatters of blood flew up with each strike of the whip, splattering onto the wall.

_Crack!_

As he found himself falling forward against the beam, his face pressed against it as he fought to control his breathing, Michael could hear Skull and Jex close by, laughing and jeering at him, revelling in his torment. They cheered as each blow hit home, and shouted out encouragement to their friend dishing out the "justice."

Only Johan stayed silent.

"Make him fucking bleed, man!" He heard Skull yell, excitedly. "Make him hurt."

_Crack!_

The power behind the lashes seemed to intensify, as Viper responded to his friend's cries. They wanted more, more blood, more pain, more torture. And he was happy to oblige.

"What will it take to make you scream, freak?" Viper demanded, his breathing laboured with the effort of the flogging. "I'll make you fucking _beg, _you Better Living scum!"

_Crack!_

Again, Michael didn't answer him. It was all he could do to stay conscious.

Three more blows struck him, and then finally, they stopped.

Michael slumped down where he was, allowing the ropes around his wrists to support his weight. He was in complete agony. Even if he was free, he wouldn't be able to move, let alone try to get away. All he wanted was the pain to end, for his ordeal to be over. He felt like he had been flogged to within an inch of his life but he knew his Hell was far from over.

Viper was just getting started.

"Cut him down," came his cruel voice once more, still barking out orders. And before he had the chance to prepare himself, the ropes holding Michael up were cut, and he found himself tumbling to the floor, landing awkwardly on his back. He had managed to control his pain and emotions during the assault, refusing to give Viper the satisfaction of gaining a single cry from him, but the agony of the jarring pain that suddenly shot through him was too much for him to cope with, and he threw back his head and screamed his anguish.

His heart dropped when he heard Viper's chilling laugh.

"There we go." The hated man whispered. "Good boy." He knelt down beside Michael, carefully lifting his chin with his finger, forcing the other man to look directly at him. "Lets see what else will make you scream, shall we, pretty?"

Michael tried to edge away, but he had nowhere to go. He glanced up, catching Johan's gaze. The youngest man was standing slightly away from the others, his face betraying the horror he was feeling at what he had just witnessed. When he saw that Michael's gaze was upon him, he swallowed hard, and quickly averted his eyes.

Viper, annoyed that his victim's attention was not focused solely on him, extended his right hand to touch Michael's bare skin, moving the hand across it slowly, until Michael shoved out, knocking Viper back, and letting out another cry of pain in the process.

"Stay away from me." He breathed, glaring up at Viper hatefully. "Don't touch me."

Viper merely laughed at him. The sound made Michael squirm, and he roughly turned his head away. This time, Viper didn't stop him. Instead, he watched him, thoughtfully. "Tell me, Exterminator," Viper mused, quietly. "Do you remember them?"

Michael furrowed his brow in confusion. He was so exhausted. He didn't want to think. He just wanted to sleep.

"Who?" He asked wearily.

Viper pursed his lips, and leaned closer. "The people you killed. Do you remember them all?"

The devastated man let out a low whimper, but didn't reply. What could he say? There was so many he had killed, so many rebels. How could he remember them? The horrible truth was that they hadn't been important enough for him to remember. They had simply been targeted traitors and he had carried out his task. As ashamed as he was to admit it, but their faces all merged into one for him.

He hung his head.

Viper nodded. "No, of course you don't. You killed so many." He gripped Michael's hair, ripping his head back. "And you enjoyed it, didn't you?"

Michael moaned softly from the pain, unable to look anywhere but into those fiery eyes.

Viper shook him so hard, he tore clumps of hair out of Michael's head. "Answer me, you fucking ass-hole."

"It wasn't about enjoyment," Michael whimpered, his eyes watering. "It was about doing my duty."

Viper's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You murdered countless innocent people, for sport, and you have the nerve to talk about 'duty'?"

Michael closed his eyes. The pain radiating from his back was all-consuming and he knew he wouldn't be able to handle it for too much longer. He knew what Viper wanted. This wasn't about breaking his body, it was about breaking his spirit, and he wouldn't let it happen.

Not again...

He gasped...

The room was spinning. He felt sick. The pain was weakening...

He was leaving that room, escaping... He was going back...

_Mikey opened his eyes slowly, blinking to accustom his sore eyes to the brightness. After a moment, he became aware of his surroundings. He was in a white hall, lights shining down upon him, strapped down to a bed, with a machine attached to his head. His breath was coming out in laboured sobs as he stared up at the white ceiling above him. He could sense the Draculoids and the Scarecrows standing close to him, but couldn't see them. Mikey was so scared. He wanted Gerard, Frank and Ray, but knew they weren't coming. He knew he would never see them again. Gerard and Frank were lost to him, and if Ray was still alive, alone in the Zones, then he wouldn't be for too much longer. No one was coming to save him. No one cared._

_He was completely alone._

"_It's alright, Michael." She was there, the Co-ordinator, whispering in his ear. He could feel her touch, gentle and inviting. "Don't be afraid, sweetheart."_

"_Please..." He found himself pleading quietly, screwing his eyes closed once more from the cruel light. "I... want... my... brother..."_

_She was smiling down at him, stroking his hand. He craved the comfort she was offering. Maybe somebody did care about him after all..._

"_Don't worry about Gerard." she told him, her tone soothing. "When this is over, you'll never think about your brother again." She kissed him on his forehead. "Soon, you'll forget he ever existed..."_

_His eyes shot open at her words. Forget Gerard? No! He didn't want that. He didn't want to forget the brother that he loved..._

"_Wait," he whimpered. "Please don't..."_

"_Shhh," The woman urged. "Don't be frightened, my sweet boy. I'll take all that hurt from you, all those horrible memories will go away. When you wake up again, we'll be together, and you'll never have to be afraid again..."_

_She leaned back from him then. He was trembling from head to foot, not knowing what to expect. Was it going to hurt? What was happening?_

"_No," he moaned, a tear rolling down his face. "Gerard..."_

_His brother was the last thing Mikey Way thought of before he heard her one word command, and everything slowly faded to black..._

"_Begin."_

A harsh blow to his head brought him crashing back to the present. Michael blinked furiously, trying to clear his thumping head, as he focused on the leering face of Viper right in front of him. The white walls were gone, as the pain came crashing back to him, as did the realisation of the horror he was facing. He gazed up at the men surrounding him, biting his lip, refusing to allow them to see him cry.

"What was that?" He heard Jex demanding. "Did he have some kind of fucking fit?"

Skull, smirking, pushed his way to the front then, glaring into Michael's face, peering right at him. "I think our Exterminator was having a little flashback," he said, his tone mocking.

Johan stepped forward, his hands stuck deeply into his pockets. "If he's remembering his life before he was re-programmed, then that changes things, right?"

Viper raised an eyebrow at the younger man. "And why's that?"

Johan cleared his throat. "His conditioning failed, and he broke the barriers BL/I set up. Eventually, the person he was will fight his way to the surface and the Killjoy will be back. He'll be Kobra Kid again." He threw Viper a sideways glance. "It might take some time, years maybe, but the Exterminator will be gone forever."

There was a pause. "I still don't get why that's a problem."

Johan stared at Viper, clearly at a loss of what to say. Skull and Jex were keeping quiet behind him, not wanting to interrupt. Finally, Johan recovered, attempting one last time to appeal to Viper's good side. He had to have one, after all.

_Didn't he?_

"If you keep hurting him, he'll die." He said, softly "And you won't be killing the Exterminator, the man who murdered hundreds of people. You'll be killing an innocent man."

Viper gave him a look of mock surprise. "Really? Well, I'd better kill him tonight then, hadn't I? Wouldn't want to hurt the wrong man..."

Johan gaped at Viper, truly appalled. It was evidently dawning on him that he'd put his faith in the wrong person, betrayed those who had saved him, who trusted him, and now a helpless Killjoy was about to pay the ultimate price for that betrayal.

Viper eye-balled Johan for a few seconds, and then laughed, reaching out, ruffling Johan's hair. "You know what? I like you, kid. Always have done." He leaned closer. "So, I'm giving you one more chance now to back off, and get out of my face."

There was a deathly silence, only broken by Michael's quiet whimpers as he gasped for breath. Johan shook his head helplessly, his eyes meeting Michael's for a moment. He then backed away from Viper, his head bowed.

Viper smirked in satisfaction, and then turned his attention back to Michael.

"I asked you," he spat. "If you remembered the people you massacred?"

Michael closed his eyes momentarily. It was the face of that Killjoy, of Jet Star, that came into his head. The rebel he spared. When he opened his eyes again, he saw that every pair of eyes were upon him, waiting for him to speak.

"I don't remember," Michael whispered. "I was following orders."

With a snarl, Viper grabbed the other man by his jacket and pulled him closer. "And you think that makes it alright? You were just 'following orders.' That's your defence for all the lives you wrecked?"

"No," Michael replied softly. "I don't have a defence. I did what I was programmed to do."

Viper glared coldly. "Until you decided to fight back." He frowned. "That was too late for me. That was too late to save my wife and son." He fought to keep control. "When your Draculoids herded all the rebels, including my family, in the old mansion into the main entrance hall and gave the simple order to 'fire.' Nothing stopped you from letting that happen, did it?"

Michael stared at Viper, dumbfounded. Even Skull and Jex were taken aback by their friends declaration. This was something he had never told them outright, though they had long assumed that there was something very tragic in Viper's past. And now they knew.

"Why didn't you kill me along with them?" Viper hissed. "Why did you walk past me, and let me live? You saw me, in that alcove, but left me there. Why?"

All Michael could do was shake his head. He didn't know. He couldn't remember. He could guess though. The base had been purged. He had carried out his duty. He had always been instructed to leave one rebel alive, one to tell the story, to send a message from the company to all the other bases, to strike fear into the hearts of all the remaining rebels.

_'The company was coming. And there would be no mercy.'_

The grimaced smile Viper gave him then was one of pure evil.

"Trust me, Exterminator. Soon, you'll wish you had killed me too."

Then, Viper jerked his head toward Skull, who instantly moved into action.

The scavenger grabbed Michael, causing him to groan in pain, and threw him viciously to the ground, where he landed in a heap, crying out once more. Taking a moment to block out the pain, Michael looked up at Viper, who had clearly composed himself again, pushing the emotions back down, and he was grinning evilly at at the man that had ruined his life.

"You took everything from me, Exterminator Michael." He breathed. "I think it's time for you to give me something back." He then quickly began to unbuckle his own belt, not taking his eyes of off Michael's shaking form. "Lets see what that sweet mouth of yours can do."

Panic seized Michael, and he tried to recoil away, but Viper merely snorted and grabbed Michael by the back of the neck. Michael whimpered from the rough treatment, as he was roughly pulled towards Viper's groin.

"No!" Johan was suddenly beside him, having shoved Skull out of the way, and he was trying to get Viper away from Michael, desperate to stop the sordid act that was about to take place. "Don't!"

Viper glared daggers at the boy, and then jerked his head to Skull. "Deal with this, will you?"

Skull complied at once, grabbing Johan by the throat and dragging him away from the others. He then shoved the stunned boy up against the wall, and tightened his hold on his neck.

"You fucking listen to me!" Skull snarled, spraying Johan with spit. "You fuck this up for us, and you'll end this day as dead as your Exterminator buddy is gonna be, you hear me?"

Johan's words came out in a hoarse croak. _"But it's wrong..."_

"No, boy. Killing hundreds of innocent men, women and children is wrong. This is justice."

"It's torture..."

With a shake of his head, Skull reached into his shirt and pulled out a knife, holding the blade against the now terrified Johan's throat.

"You interfere again, and I'll finish you. Is that _understood?_"

With tears in his eyes, and knowing he was defeated; Johan did his best to nod.

Skull gave him a cold smile. "Good."

And then he allowed the young man to fall to his knees, gasping for much-needed breath. He turned his back on Johan, and moved to join Jex once more, who was eying his brother with amusement.

"Okay?" Jex whispered.

"Fine," Skull replied, slipping his knife back into his jacket. He then grinned to Viper, who was watching him closely. "Sorry about that, Viper. Go ahead, buddy."

Viper chuckled, and then tightened his hold on Michael once more.

"Now, you were gonna suck me, weren't you, pretty?"

Michael narrowed his eyes. "Not a chance."

"Do it, sweetness." Skull ordered him, his lips curling. "You might like it."

"No," Michael growled. "Fuck off."

"Suck it," Viper hissed, his tongue darting out to lick at Michael's face. Michael, now completely grossed out, turned his head to one side. No. He wouldn't do that, he would not become this man's whore, no matter how guilty he felt. He stubbornly shook his head, and bit down on his lip in his effort to keep them closed, even drawing blood in the process.

Viper's eyes blazed. He tightened his hold on Michael's neck, and repeated, more furiously; "Suck _it!_"

Again, Michael shook his head. He closed his eyes tightly, praying that when he opened them this would all be over, and he would be in another place, in another time. All he wanted was to be out of this nightmare.

"I said, _SUCK IT_!"

Viper was incensed, pushing his member against Michael's face, rubbing his cock against the smaller man's cheeks and mouth, leaving a wet trail over his face. Foolishly, Michael stubbornly continued to refuse to open his mouth for the dangerous man standing over him. Viper's patience had expired completely, and he snarled as he forced his fist into Michael's gut, causing him to open his mouth slightly to moan in pain. Viper let out a cry of triumph as he took advantage of Michael's weakness, and pushed his large, hard penis into his victim's mouth. Michael's eyes widened in disgust, and he weakly attempted to push the man of him, Skull and Jex's vicious laughter ringing in his ears.

Michael struggled to breathe, tears streaming, unwanted, down his face, as Viper thrust violently in and out of his mouth, his face contorting in pleasure as his cock hit the back of Michael's throat.

"That's it... fucking bitch... _suck me_..."

Viper groaned, his hands gripped his hair as he pistoned his cock into Michael's mouth. Michael shut down, blocking out Viper's grunts, and Skull and Jex's cat calls and degrading cries. Just when Michael knew he couldn't take much more, just when the shame and constant punishment was becoming to much for him and he could feel himself beginning to give in to that ever present darkness, Viper suddenly pulled out, and began to fist himself, the friction harder and faster than even what he had achieved in Michael's bruised mouth. Michael's tormented gaze was now trained on the cock, inches from his face, which was about to explode. The grip on Michael's hair tightened, ensuring that he couldn't move his head even slightly. Finally, his stomach knotted as he heard Viper hiss, "_Fucking yes, take it,_" and suddenly spurt after spurt of the sadistic man's come shot towards him, with no way for him to protect himself, he could only stay there and wait for it to hit him. He closed his eyes instinctively.

He felt the wetness striking his face, and heard Viper's shout of triumph.

Michael knelt there, gasping in horrified humiliation, drenched in Viper's spunk. He was coated, the vulgar liquid covering his face and hair, staining his lips, stinging his eyes. He could feel the come dripping down his chin, and he had never felt so defiled, so used. He watched, helpless, as Viper trembled with every last after shock, savouring the moment as long as he possibly could. Finally, his breathing returned to normal and he looked down, a wide smile on his lips, as he took in Michael's revolting state.

"Thanks, pretty;" he muttered, smirking, wiping his own juices across Michael's face, adding to the other man's humiliation. "That was real nice."

Michael couldn't look at Viper's victorious face for a moment longer. He lowered his broken body to the ground, trying to curl up into a fetal position, trying to cover his face with his arms.

"What's wrong now, pretty?" He heard Viper's smug voice, mocking him. "Aint you having fun?" Michael would not reply, he would not play Viper's sick game. He couldn't prevent himself for trembling though. Surely they'd have enough now?

Surely it was over?

He soon got his answer.

He was suddenly seized, and rolled over on to his front. He let out another anguished cry, and began to crawl, trying to get away from those cruel hands. But he had no where to go.

He screamed in agony as fists rained down on his battered back, causing more pain than he would have, before that day, believed possible, and he stopped moving instantly, collapsing to the dirty floor once more. When his pathetic escape attempt came to a halt, so did the blows. He lay there, breathing harshly, completely motionless. What was the point of using up effort? He wasn't going anywhere. Nowhere but Hell, anyway. Only when he felt those familiar, cruel hands on his belt, pulling it free, and then tugging on his trousers, dragging them down over his hips, did he start to struggle feebly again. But it did no good. He was so hurt, so weak, and there were three of them. He couldn't fight them, and he knew it.

All he could do was lie there, and hope that it would all be over soon.

He shrieked in horror when he felt a finger entering him.

"How does that feel?" Viper's hated voice hissed. "I gotta tell you, you don't seem so imposing now, mighty Masked Exterminator."

The shame of hearing Skull and Jex's laughing at him again took hold of Michael and refused to let go. He squirmed in Viper's grip as the grotesque man's finger continued to push it's way into his agonised body.

"Viper?" A quiet voice suddenly spoke up. "I don't think I-"

"What is it, Johan?" Viper barked impatiently. "Spit it out, kid!"

"Do I have to stay?" He shuffled on the spot, hands dug deep in his pockets. "I can keep watch outside, make sure no one-"

Jex snorted. He was glaring at the other boy with real contempt. "You're a fucking wimp, man!"

Skull, however, merely shrugged. "Why not let him go? If his heart isn't in this, what's the point of him being here?"

Viper seemed to muse on this for a few moments, and then he nodded. "Okay, Johan. You can wait outside until we're done here. Don't go to far though, boy. You know it's risky out there at night, especially if you're alone."

Johan let out a relieved sigh. "Sure, I know. I'll keep real close, I swear."

Viper was apparently satisfied. He tilted his head slightly as he gazed back down at the man trembling beneath him, making small pained sounds. "Probably be a good idea to keep a look out for our esteemed leader too," he said quietly, and smirked. "Our, kind, sensitive Leon might try an ill-advised rescue plan. He just doesn't understand how dangerous our little Exterminator here is -" He pulled his finger out, and then shoved two inside of Michael, gaining himself another cry - "Or should that be, was?" Viper threw Johan a toothy grin.

Johan looked as though he was going to be sick, as he made his way to the door, refusing to look at any of the occupants of the room again. Just as he got to the door, and had his hand on the handle, Viper addressed him once more, and he paused, his head down.

"Before you go, kid," Viper called. "Can you throw me the Exterminator's ray gun?"

Johan hesitated. He raised his head and eyed Viper, who had his hand outstretched, waiting. Skull and Jex were both watching Johan now. With a growing sense of unease, Johan reached inside his jacket, pulled out the Better Living custom white ray gun, and threw it to Viper, who deftly caught it.

"Much obliged," Viper purred.

He removed the two fingers, and Michael's body shook once more. As Johan gazed down at the tormented man, Michael slowly raised his head, and fixed the boy with a desperate look. Johan could read that look well enough; the former Extermimtor was pleading with him not to go, and Johan knew why. He was the only one who had shown the poor man any resemblance of kindness, and now, he was leaving. Johan swayed on the spot, at a loss of what he should do for the best.

He wished he could help Michael, but what the hell could he do?

As he watched, Viper leaned over his victim once more, and whispered something into his ear, something only Michael could hear. Whatever it was, it distressed the man even further. Michael began to moan weakly, shaking his head from side to side, whimpering, "_no._" He even began to claw at the ground, actually scrapping off his fingernails, in his desperation to wriggle out from under Viper.

Viper laughed loudly. He licked his lips, and leaned back.

"Where you going, pretty?" He asked, and then, he tightened his hold on Michael's blaster. "Have your gun back, you bastard!"

And then, with no further warning, he forced the gun into Michael's anus.

Michael screamed in horror, and the screams only intensified as Viper pulled the gun out, only to shove it back inside again, grunting with the effort.

Skull and Jex both reacted as expected, laughing and shouting expletives. Michael had his eyes tightly closed now, his breathing harsh, as his body was ruthlessly torn apart.

Skull, an arm thrown around his brother's shoulders, as nonchalant as he pleased, spat: "What's wrong, Sugar? Better hold still, or you could end up with two ass holes!"

Viper laughed at that, continuing his sadistic torture on the helpless man beneath him.

Johan swallowed hard. He couldn't stay there a second longer. Every cry Michael let out, ripped into him, turning his very blood to ice. He had to get out of there. He was being a coward, he knew that, but there was nothing he could do for Michael in that second. It was three against one. If he tried to intervene, they were certain that Viper would simply kill him too. The man was so consumed by his rage, by his need for revenge, he had lost any goodness that had once been inside him.

With a quiet sob, Johan threw open the door, and shot outside, slamming it shut behind him. Unable to stop himself, Johan fell to his knees and vomited all over the hot sand. Tears were running down his face as he listened to Michael's screams. He tried to cover his ears, but that didn't help. He couldn't block that suffering out, and he knew it was all his fault. He'd brought Michael to this place. Handed him to Viper on a plate. He owed him. He couldn't let the torture continue.

It was so dark. He felt in his pocket, pulling out a box of matches. He frowned, knowing they wouldn't light his way very much, nor for very long, but he had to try. He was also very aware that Viper had been speaking quite truthfully, there would be wild animals out there hunting, and if they caught his scent, he would have no chance...

He took a deep breath, pushing his fears to the back of his mind.

He looked over his shoulder one more time, wincing at Michael's continued, helpless screams. He would go for help. He would make this right.

And then, after a second to steel himself, he ran off into the night.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

**Hi again everyone! Sorry this is a short but sweet note but it is nearly 2am here and I need to go to sleep! I just wanted to get this posted for you! Enjoy and please, if you are reading every chapter, please review and let me know! I'd love to get an idea of how many people are actually following this series!**

**Anyway, enjoy.**

**(And yes, Mikey doesn't have a great time here either. More warnings for graphic violence including rape...)**

**See you again soon! xx**

**Purifying Flame**

**Chapter Fourteen**

Michael was still lying on his front, his breathing coming out in laboured, painful sobs. He gasped, trying to compose himself. Viper had finally relented with his torture; having grown tired of raping Michael with his own blaster, and had tossed the bloodied weapon to one side. The three sadists were standing together now, heads bowed, as they whispered to each other, planning their next move. They had stepped away from Michael, leaving him to wallow in his own misery, to whimper and bleed on the floor. Why did they even need to watch him? It wasn't as if he could go anywhere. He couldn't even push himself forward, let alone lift his broken and beaten body off of the ground.

All he could do was lay there and wait for them to resume their torments. He was actually grateful for the tiny respite they had allowed him.

Hearing their footsteps approaching him again, his whole body tensed, and Michael allowed a low moan to escape.

He squirmed as a boot pressed down on the small of his back, and he steeled himself, ready for yet more agony. Instead, he heard that sickening chuckle that he had come to loathe.

Viper's hated voice filled the quiet room once more. "Ready for some more fun, Exterminator?"

Michael didn't bother to reply.

"Maybe he's had enough?"

Laughter followed Skull's comment. And then: "Him, enough? He's the Masked Exterminator, buddy. He's trained to deal with a lot worse than what we're capable of! This is child's play to Mikey boy here, y'know!"

"Don't call me that," Michael whispered, hating how broken his voice sounded.

The boot suddenly lifted off of him. "We'll call you whatever we want, Pretty;" Viper hissed to him. "You've not worked it out yet, have you? You don't _know_what you are?"

"I'm a dead man." Michael muttered, more to himself.

There was a pause before Viper replied, "Not yet. Not until we say you can die. Until then, you're ours."

Michael couldn't help but whimper. "Why are you doing this?"

Viper laughed at that. The sound made Michael's skin crawl. The next second, a cruel kick made him yell out in outrage, and he found himself pushed over onto his back. He gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out again from the latest rough treatment. All he could do was look up into Viper's sneering face.

Viper bent over him, his eyes blazing. Skull and Jex stood just behind him, both of them watching their leader. "Haven't you worked that one out yet?" Viper answered him softly. "We want you to suffer, Exterminator. We want you to pay for every single drop of blood that you've ever spilled, with some of your own."

Fear coursed through Michael. He knew his ordeal was far from over.

Viper crouched down, letting out a deep sigh as he regarded the broken man below him. He then reached toward Michael, moving his hand to lightly stroke his victim's hair. "You're our fuck-toy, Michael. Our pretty little whore. That's all you are now, and this is how you are gonna die, grovelling and whimpering at our feet. I want you to think about _that."_

With no further warning, Viper grabbed Michael's legs, and forced them apart. Michael tried to fight against him but it was futile. He was nowhere near strong enough to stop Viper, who was almost euphoric, thanks to the adrenalin coursing through him in waves. He chuckled as he forced a finger inside Michael's bloodied and bruised hole, causing his victim to scream out in pain and horror once more. The gun had already caused so much damage to his insides, that having Viper now pushing a finger up inside of him was pure agony. Michael writhed, shaking his head from side to side, trying to block out the horror of what was happening to him. His cries intensified when Viper added another finger, and then a third, preparing the way for something far worse – something even more disturbing than the gun. And that was what terrified Michael the most. The gun had been agony, but nothing would compare to the nightmare of what was coming next.

With a click of his teeth, Viper pulled his fingers out, and then grinned toothily down at Michael, as he pulled at his leather belt, and hurriedly slipped down his own pants until they were around his ankles. With Skull and Jex looking on, their laughter cruel and intrusive, Viper reached out for his victim and spread his legs one more time. With a desperate moan, Michael tried to force his legs closed, anything he could do to make this difficult for his attacker.

He would not just lay there and take this. _He wouldn't._

Viper smiled. "Stop fighting me," he whispered. "You know you can't win this."

Michael shook his head violently. He was not going to make this easy for them.

But he was too weak, too injured to keep up the fight for long. As he tired, and began to whimper from the effort, Viper leered at him. With a smirk, he coaxed his hand between Michael's legs, pushing them apart once more.

Michael knew he was beaten. There was nothing he could do to stop this from happening. He was in so much pain, he could barely move. He met Viper's gaze and wished he hadn't when he saw the sickening triumph in those eyes.

"I hope you enjoy this, pretty boy."

Michael closed his eyes, and tried to compose himself, ready for the pain he couldn't do anything to prevent.

Viper pressed his length against Michael's hole, and prepared to push in, past the tender muscles, his eyes shining in anticipation.

Michael had no idea why he said it, or even where it came from. It just seemed the right thing to say.

It was only a whisper, but it spoke volumes...

"_Help me, Gerard..."_

Viper actually paused, his eyes wide, as he stared at the man beneath him.

"So, who is this Gerard, doll?" He enquired, breathlessly. "A man can get the wrong idea, y'know. It's not right for his bitch to call out another name like that." He smiled viciously. "Know what I'm saying?"

Michael swallowed hard. The tears threatened to spill, so he tried to turn his face away as he replied, quite truthfully: "I don't know who Gerard is..."

Viper gaped at him for a moment, and then he chuckled. Skull and Jex were peering at Michael with interest too now, as they waited for Viper to give the Exterminator exactly what he deserved.

With amused disbelief, Viper shook his head, and shrugged. "You're fucking insane, boy. Youknow that?"

Michael could do nothing else. He nodded, defeated, still unable to look directly at his attacker.

Viper merely laughed. "But guess what, Michael? You're in luck. I_like_crazy."

And with that, Viper thrust into him with a cry of triumph, pushing his cock deep inside, impaling the man who had ruined his life, right up to the hilt.

Michael's agonised cries once again filled the small candle-lit space, and, as Viper began to pump brutally into him, his head thrown back in pure ecstasy, a part of Michael...

_Or was it the part that was Mikey..?_

...Whatever it was, it died there in that darkness.

XXX

It was a bumpy ride to the base.

Bandit had fallen asleep as soon as they had set off, her head resting in Gerard's lap as he played absent-mindedly with her hair, a contented smile on his lips as he gazed down at her.

It still seemed unbelievable that she was there with him. He knew he would never get tired of simply watching her. She was even more perfect than he had remembered.

The rebels had exchanged some small chat when they had first headed off, but that had come to a quick and uncomfortable halt when Ray and Show Pony had enquired after the other rebels that had accompanied Ray, Frank and the rest on their mission to snatch Mikey. As soon as Billie Joe had been mentioned, Mike had become visibly distressed, turned his face away from his fellow occupants of the car. None of them had to ask why.

Ray had offered Mike his sympathies, telling him that Billie was one in a million, and would never be forgotten.

Mike had not replied.

Since then, they had all sat quietly, listening to the soft hum of the engine as the car carried them on.

And so, for a good length of the journey, everyone had sat in complete silence in the transporter. Gerard had spent a long period of time gazing out of the window, staring out into the darkness at the desert he thought he would never see again. Being trapped in the City had only made him realise yet again that he truly belonged out in the Zones. Gerard leaned back, rubbing at his eyes as the tiredness he had been holding off hit him with a vengeance. The Better Living scum liked to call those like him "Zone Rats". He knew why. They were so terrified of people having their own minds, of encouraging the rest to rise up and see the Corporation for what they truly were, that they outlawed the fortunate few, labelled them criminals, and banished them into the desert. Gerard pursed his lips together. They had done him a favour. He was happy for them to label him all they wanted, to call him a rodent, rabble rouser and criminal. As long as he was free, living his own life and away from all the white, and the boredom of the city, then he was happy.

He glanced up suddenly, aware that Ray, who was sat beside him, and Bob were once again deep in conversation. Mike, who was sat in the front of the car, alongside the driver Show Pony, had his eyes closed, and Gerard wondered if he was sleeping. Gerard had then turned back to his former band mates and had watched, with mixed emotions, as Ray and Bob had had their "moment," both apparently relieved and pleased to see the other. Gerard understood how Ray felt; he too had truly believed that Bob would have been re-programmed, or even ghosted. It had been years since they had seen him, after all. Gerard placed his head against the window, listening to Ray conveying his story of what had happened to him since Gerard and Frank's supposed deaths.

When he'd finally mentioned Mikey, he turned and looked at Gerard, as if awaiting his permission to continue. That's when it had dawned on Gerard. Ray didn't know if Gerard knew what had befallen Mikey; Hell, he didn't even know himself that Mikey was still alive.

Nor did Gerard, of course. He just had faith.

"_Mikey is alive,__"_Gerard had told Ray, and Ray's head had snapped back round to his friend's, his face displaying his emotions. Confusion, disbelief, hope and happiness, they were all there to see. Ray had reached out, gripping the older man's shoulder. _"You sure?_"

Bob had answered before Gerard had had the chance. _"Yeah, he is. I got him out of the city."_Bob had paused, before adding, "_He's not Mikey, though, Ray. He's not the Exterminator either. He's somebody new."_

Ray had gaped at Bob, and then his eyes once more had met Gerard's, and he'd kept his voice steady when he told him; "_That was OUR Mikey Way in that mansion, Gerard. I know it was."_

Gerard had nodded, accepting though not necessarily believing. He had then rubbed the back of his neck as he had asked, quite softly: _"What happened, Ray?"_

And Ray had begun to describe his own story. When he mentioned the Exterminator version of Mikey he had encountered that fateful day, Gerard had winced, struck by the harsh blow that might had well have been a knife wound to his gut. He missed Mikey so much. He wondered if he would ever have the chance to see him again. One thing was for sure, he would make BL/I pay for what they had done to his innocent, gentle brother. As Ray had described how Mikey had allowed him and Grace to live, apparently disobeying direct orders when he had changed his mind, Gerard had raised his head, and looked directly at Ray hopefully. Ray had paused and returned Gerard's look, giving him a hopeful smile.

" _He's still in there, Gee._" Ray had assured him. "_I could feel him, just below the surface. __We just have to reach him."_

Gerard had glanced down, and then looked toward the window once more.

Then it had been Bob's turn to speak. As Gerard had listened carefully, Bob spoke about how tough his life had been since the bombs had fallen and Better Living had taken control. He had lived in the City for the last few years, keeping under the radar. He had taken a job in the medical centre, mainly to enable him to "blend in" and keep under the radar. Especially when Korse had begun to search for anybody connected to the "Most Notorious Rebels." Gerard glanced quickly at Bob, his feeling of unease growing within him. Bob would have been in great danger the whole time they had "enjoyed" their private war against Korse and his company, thanks to his connections to them. Not one of the four of them had thought to warn Bob when they had been forced to go on the run, and that had been a big mistake. He had been one of them, and there would have been records of him. If they had pictures surviving of them in the archives, then chances were Bob would have been in those too. Bob had been as much a part of My Chemical Romance as the rest of them after all. They had left him there, ignorant of the danger. And, sure enough, Korse had come calling, and Bob had also been forced further underground. He's lived his life as best as he could, keeping his head down, hoping that no one had noticed. He had completed his medical training and had been promoted to the role of doctor in the reprogramming section. And that was where he had stayed until the day he saw Mikey Way again, watching him being re-programmed, helpless to interfere. And that was the moment Bob knew it was time for him to come back to life. The next day, after seeing the lifeless robot Mikey had become, he had decided to join the resistance, knowing that he still had a part to play in the story.

"It's not been easy," Bob finished softly, tilting his head gently. "But I got Mikey out of there, and I kept Gerard safe, so at least I know I've been useful." He gave Ray a gentle smile. "Even if it does hurt to know that you guys forgot about me..."

He broke off when they both heard Gerard clear his throat. "You weren't forgotten, Bob." They both turned their attention to the Killjoy leader, who was now facing Bob, and his own guilt. "I thought you'd be safer out of it. Out of all the shit-"

"I never wanted to be out, Gerard." Bob replied, at once. "And I was living in the City pretty soon after the bombs fell. I didn't have a lot of choice after my home was destroyed in the great fire." His eyes were suddenly flamed. "Not exactly what I'd call safe..."

Gerard swallowed. "I didn't know any of that."

Bob regarded him, chewing on his lip. "Did you even bother to _try_and find out? Did you at least _look_for me?"

Gerard stared straight ahead, before answering with a simple: "No."

Bob gazed at him and then nodded. "I get it. I guess I wasn't important enough."

Ray frowned, and glanced down. Gerard met Bob's gaze.

"I'm sorry," he told him.

"Don't worry about it," Bob said, a little too abruptly. "I did alright on my own."

Gerard watched him for a moment longer, and when Ray had attempted polite chat once again, asking Bob if he still had a drum kit, he returned his gaze to the window. As he looked on, zoning out of any trivial conversation his companions were once again engaged in, the car suddenly came to an abrupt stop. He looked questionably toward Pony, who was already pushing the door open.

"We're close to the base," Pony told Gerard, not waiting for him to ask. "Just gonna check with the boys in the other car that the coast is clear. You never know where a patrol might be lurking and if they saw us entering the base and manage to report back..." He hesitated, grimacing, before adding, "That would be very bad times for us all." And with that, he quickly jumped out of the vehicle. "Stay here," he told them. "I'll be right back."

And then he disappeared into the blackness.

Mike glanced over his shoulder. "You guys okay?"

Bob smirked. "Fantastic Mike, how are you?"

"Hungry," the Green Day bassist replied, rubbing at his eyes, and stretching. "Hope they've got a spread ready."

"We'll get Mikey and Frank back," Gerard whispered, suddenly. He may as well have not heard Mike speak at all. He was lost in his own thoughts. "And we'll make Jimmy pay for what he and his company did to Billie, Bert, Gareth, Luka and every other life we've lost thanks to them. We'll all be back together again soon." He balled his hands into fists. "I know we will be."

Bob frowned. "Wish I had your confidence."

Ray tapped at his seatbelt distractedly. "The thing is Bob, four weeks ago, I was absolutely, without a doubt, the last Killjoy alive. If anyone had tried to tell me that I'd see any of you guys again a few weeks back, I'd have told them it wasn't possible, and then I'd have kicked the shit out of them!" Gerard couldn't help himself; he giggled, and then glanced down. Ray reached out and grasped Gerard's hand. "I've seen my two best friends come back from the dead, Gee. I'll believe anything now. _That's_how I know you're right."

Gerard lifted his head, met Ray's eyes, and smiled at him gratefully.

Suddenly, the transporter door was flung open right beside Gerard, and Pony was there, beaming at them all.

"Okay guys!" He announced. "We're up!"

Gerard frowned.

"That was quick, you sure that-"

"Shona and Grace would have been back a while now," Ray told him. "They'd have been expecting us, been on the look out-"

"What Jet Star said!" Pony interjected. "Everyone's waiting. They've laid out food and drink for you, and somewhere for you and the little one to rest." He regarded Gerard closely. "They're all about to get a bit of a shock."

Gerard blinked. "They don't know I'm alive?"

Pony smirked. "They're about to!" He pulled at Gerard's arm. "Come on, let's get you inside. I'll move the car and meet you inside."

"That's good enough for me," Bob offered. "Food, drink, bed. Sounds perfect."

And with that, he was out of the car, and had slammed the door behind him. He set off then, not bothering to wait for the others. Mike shrugged his shoulders, and then hurried after the other man.

Ray and Gerard exchanged looks, and then, after handing Bandit to Pony, they were up and out of the open door. Pony stood beside them, giving them a bow as they stood beside him. Pony grinned at Gerard.

"Good to have you back where you belong, Party."

Gerard looked up and a surge of emotion flooded through him when he saw the building before him. It was one of the rebel camps that the Doc and Billie had founded, soon after the rebel movement had begun. Gerard wasn't surprised that the Co-ordinator hadn't dug deep enough to find the camp; he hadn't been there for many years. It was to that building that Billie Joe had taken Gerard and the others after they had been forced to flee. They had met Death Defying and Show Pony for the first time and their lives had changed forever. It was moving for Gerard to be back there, but also painful. Because this time, Mikey and Frank weren't beside him and Ray.

Gerard gritted his teeth. He would put that right. He would get them back.

"Go on," Pony whispered, in his ear. "Your daughter looks like she's ready to drop."

Gerard glanced down at Bandit, who did look utterly exhausted, and was clinging onto his arm, as if she was scared he would leave her again.

_Not this time._

"Come on, baby." He whispered to her. "Come and meet some more of your Dads pals."

They then walked forward, heading toward the base. Ray's steps faltered and Gerard glanced over at him, understanding completely what his friend was feeling. There were so many memories, so many ghosts. It hurt to be back there. So much had changed for them. So much had been lost.

As they walked, the gates at the entrance to the base were suddenly pushed back, and four rebels rushed forward, all covering the newcomers with their stolen Corporation ray guns. Gerard held up a hand, and his party came to a halt, all raising their hands.

A few moments passed, and then one of the armed men called out sharply:

"What's the password?"

Gerard paused, giving Ray a quick glance. Gerard knew what the pass word to the base had been all those years ago, but surely it had changed since then? He had nothing else to offer though, so he cleared his throat, and replied:

"_Look alive, Sunshine._"

"That's more than one fucking word, you ass!" Bob snarled.

Gerard gave him a withering look, but before he could respond, the sound of hearty laughter filled the silent darkness.

"Yeah, that's what we were looking for!"

Gerard turned quickly in the direction of the new vice, and then smiled. "You didn't think about changing it, then?"

Death Defying moved his chair forward, keeping to the shadows. "Didn't see the point. Knew how long it took you to memorise that first one!"

Gerard laughed at that. "Cheeky fucking bastard!"

Death Defying wheeled his chair closer, until he could get a clear look at Gerard, and then he shook his head in disbelief.

"Pony told me but..." He broke off, unable to find the words. "Jesus, Gerard. I'll be damned..."

Gerard nodded. "You probably will, yes."

Defying waved him closer, and Gerard quickly obeyed. He grasped the hand of the man he had grown to know not only as a leader, but also a true friend.

"I don't know how you did it, Poison," Defying told him. "But I am so fucking happy to see you again."

"I didn't do it," Gerard replied. "_They_did."

Defying raised an eyebrow. "Let's hope they come to regret that."

"I think they already have!" Ray called.

Defying turned his attention to Gerard's companions. "Ray and Mike, good to see you again. I feared the worst for you all-"

He paused, and then looked down. "The others who left with you and with Pony on the scouting mission," he balled his hands into fists. "They didn't make it?"

Mike looked down sadly. "No, boss. I'm sorry."

Death Defying let out a sigh, and then bowed his head. He seemed to hesitate, before asking, very softly, "Billie Joe?"

Mike swallowed hard, and then shook his head. He couldn't answer, or meet Defying's gaze.

Defying closed his eyes. When he opened them again, tears were forming.

"I'm so sorry," he offered, quietly. "He was a great man."

"The best," Mike corrected.

"We're all gonna miss-" Defying continued, but Mike quickly held up both his hands.

"I'm sorry but I can't do this," he moved forward, the others all gazing at him. His eyes met the Doc's one more time, and then the surviving Green Day member shook his head once more. "I'm sorry." And then, he was rushing past Death Defying and his concerned fellow rebels, and heading straight into the base, not stopping despite numerous attempts to call him back.

Ray went to go after his friend, but Defying spoke up, stopping him in his tracks.

"Leave him, Ray. Mike has lost so much. He needs time-"

" _RAY!__ "_

Racing out of the door Mike had left open, Shona and a very excited ball of energy resembling Grace came hurtling towards Ray. In her haste to throw herself on her friend, Grace didn't even notice that Gerard was standing beside him.

Shona noticed him first.

As she stood there, smiling, waiting for Grace to unwrap herself from the bemused Ray, she caught Gerard's gaze, and furrowed her brow in confusion as she took in the man she had seen posters of down every street, every alley in the city.

Speaking very clearly, she stated: "You're Party Poison, aren't you!"

Grace froze.

She pulled free of Ray, turned to face Gerard, and audibly gasped. He smiled back at her fondly, just as happy to see her as she evidently was to see him.

"Hey Gracie," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I missed you."

"Poison?" She breathed, not daring to believe what was right before her eyes. "Is it really you?"

His smile widened to a grin. "It's _really_ me, doll."

Ray placed his hand on Grace's shoulder. "I can vouch for him, honey. It's _our_ Party Poison." He leant down, to whisper into her ear. "Go and give him a hug, yeah?"

She didn't need telling twice. She ran forward, grabbing him, clinging to him. Gerard hugged her back, holding her close. When he finally released her, and placed her back on the ground, she noticed Bandit standing close, watching her. The two girls stood shyly, smiling at each other, and then finally gave into the emotion, embracing as if they were sisters.

It was Shona who broke up the happy reunion.

"Come on, Gracie. I did as you asked and brought you down here to say hey but we gotta go back in now-"

Grace's smile faded, and she glared at Shona. "But I wanna stay-"

Shona crossed her arms over her chest. Sternly, she continued, "It's time for bed now, Grace. You're exhausted and you need some sleep. So say goodbye, and you'll see your friends again in the morning."

Grace was not impressed.

"You can't make me-"

"Shona is right, Grace." Ray cut across her. "I can see how tired you are, after everything we've been through. Go get some sleep now, and we'll be together again soon enough." He kissed her hand. "Okay?"

Grace looked across at Gerard. "And what about Bandit?"

Bandit drew herself up to her full height. "I'm older than-"

"She's about to turn in herself, Grace." Gerard said, at once.

Bandit looked up at her dad with wide, disappointed eyes. "But Daddy-"

"Daddy?" Grace repeated, her eyes widening again. Then, she gazed at her friend. "I _knew_ there was something about you..."

Bandit smiled, and squeezed her hand.

She looked toward Gerard once more, getting ready to argue but he got in before her:

"Bedtime," he repeated, and this time, noting his tone, neither of the girls argued.

Shona took Grace's other hand. "Grace is staying with me," she announced. "There's not enough room in there for Bandit too but there is a room on the far side of the house, in the left wing. Do you want me to take her, Poison?"

Gerard smiled at her gratefully. "Thanks for the offer, but it's all good. I'll take her." He glanced at Defying. "Can you call a meeting tonight, Doc? There's lots we need to talk about."

Defying sighed. "It's late, Gerard."

Gerard frowned. "I realise that, but this won't wait." He grimaced. "Frank is still in that City and we have to go back in there and get him."

There was an instant reaction. Shona swore under her breath. Bob burst out laughing. In fact, all the rebels in earshot of Gerard began to heatedly discuss what he had just suggested. Even Ray was looking at him nervously.

"Into the city?" Pony muttered, staring open mouthed at Gerard. "You off your head, Poison? You know we don't have the man or fire power here to-"

Poison waved away his argument. "Let me take my girl to bed, and then we can talk." He leaned closer to Defying. "I do have a plan, Death. I just need you to hear me out. Please?"

Defying paused for a moment, and then nodded grimly. "Okay Gerard. See to your daughter first. I hope I can meet her properly tomorrow, by the way. I've heard so much about her from you and Lindsey, after all."

Gerard's bottom lip trembled. Any mention of Lindsey's name was hard for him.

He just wished she'd lived to see Bandit again.

"Time to go, babe," Shona announced, leading Grace back inside the base.

Grace had finally given in, and turned to give them all one last wave. She smiled widely at Bandit, and then hurried away after Shona. There was once more a spring in her step and it was obvious why. Her Party Poison was back.

Gerard's full attention was quickly focused again on Bandit.

"Time to go, sweetheart," Gerard whispered, grasping Bandit's hand, and pulled her along with him. She clutched his hand tightly, ambling along beside him.

"It's all about Frank for you, isn't it?" Bob muttered, under his breath, just as Gerard and Bandit passed close by him. "Fuck everyone else."

Gerard paused, and then turned, glaring at Bob in annoyance. "What did you say," he asked him, curtly.

Ray frowned, and stepped closer to Gerard, placing a concerned hand on his friend's arm.

"Leave it, Gee. Come on."

"Nah, Ray." Gerard snapped, pushing Ray's hand away from him. "Let him talk. He's clearly got something to say."

Bob sneered. "You're actually gonna let me talk?" He widened his eyes. "Wow. Maybe you have changed after all, Way. Don't tell me that you've finally realised that this isn't all about _you_?"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Gerard demanded, getting right in Bob's face. "My brother and my boyfriend are missing, or didn't you notice?"

Bob clapped mockingly. "Oh, so you do remember Mikey then?"

At that, Gerard looked ready to kill.

"_Just what the __fuck do you mean by that?!_"

Suddenly, Show Pony was between them pushing Gerard away, keeping the two fuming men apart. "Tell you what I think," Pony said quickly. "I think Bandit looks beat, Gerard. Better take her to get some sleep, yeah buddy?"

Gerard eye-balled Bob, apparently more than willing to continue their dispute. Bob wasn't about to back down either. Ray watched him ominously. It seemed to him that Bob was ready for the fight he'd been waiting to have for so many years. Finally, Gerard glanced at Ray, who was watching him nervously, and then looked at Bandit, who was gazing up at him with big, frightened eyes.

"Don't talk about Mikey again," Gerard hissed. "You know fuck all. And, while we're asking questions, how did you get away from the Drac patrol?"

Bob didn't answer him; he merely smirked.

After a few uncomfortable moments, Gerard glowered furiously, and turned his back on his old band mate, leading Bandit away as she merrily skipped along beside him, completely unaware of just how furious her Dad was.

Ray envied her. He knew it would take Gerard some time to calm down after this one.

Pleased to see the latest disaster averted, Show Pony and Death went on their way, leaving only Bob and Ray at the entrance. Ray quickly pulled his friend closer, his eyes narrowed in anger.

"Cool it, okay? You know what Gerard has been through!"

Having made his point, Ray then took off after the others, not bothering to spare Bob another look.

Bob watched Ray go, and then balled his hands into fists.

"Yeah, I do," he mumbled, under his breath. "More than even _you_ know, Toro."

And then, he smiled.

XXX

Johan was dragging his exhausted body across the desert. He was dead on his feet, but he knew he had to keep going. He owed it to Michael. All he could picture was the man's dejected, terrified face when he realised that Johan was leaving him to his fate. Johan had never felt so ashamed with himself. Why hadn't he stopped and thought before he'd led Michael into _that?_ Leon had trusted him, and that should have been enough for him. He just prayed that he could find the camp, get help and somehow save the poor man's life. Or at the very least, bring his suffering to an end. He didn't want to imagine what else had been done to him. Viper and his friends were sadistic murderers.

It turned Johan's stomach to think what they might be doing right then.

Johan hated them.

Viper had seen him as nothing but a naïve kid, someone to use and discard once he had performed his task. Johan would show him. Johan would make him see that there was much more to him than that.

He was so lost in his thoughts, that Johan almost missed the growl, coming out of the darkness.

_Almost..._

He stood, breathing hard, terror threatening to seize him. Then he heard another growl, and then another, and then the sound of snarling and hissing.

If that wasn't terrifying enough, the sudden loud, unmistakable sound of howling sent him over the edge. Turning quickly, and his breathing now coming out as laboured sobs, Johan broke into a run.

He could hear them behind him, pounding on the sand after him. And they were getting closer. He knew what this was; it was one of the packs of wild, feral dogs that he had heard, and been warned, so much about. They had smelt blood on him, probably Michael's blood, and now they were chasing him.

If they caught him, they would tear him to pieces.

Johan knew he wouldn't get far. There were at least four hounds behind him, and they were all starving. He was dinner for them. He would soon tire, and it would only take one of them to rip out his throat and it would be game over for him.

He looked over his shoulder, and he thought he saw the glint of their eyes shining in the moonlight. When he looked back, his heart almost gave in. Their eyes were not reflecting the moon, there was a light flickering in the distance. A firelight. He knew it could only mean one thing; he was nearing the camp. If he could just get to the camp, get to Leon and Electra, then the three of then, armed with fire, could frighten the hounds away.

_If he got there._

Just as Johan thought he really could make it, the nearest animal sprang into action. It flew through the air toward him, attacking him and knocking him off his feet. He fell to the ground with a grunt, and was instantly trying to keep those large, snapping teeth away from his throat. The other dogs were almost upon him too; he knew he had mere seconds left...

And that was the moment he heard the very welcome sound of a ray gun. A shot rang out, and then another, and then the dog on top of him let out a whimpering sound and collapsed onto his chest. The crying and barking he heard from the other dogs told him that they had also been accosted. Very soon, he heard the reassuring sounds of them scattering, and then suddenly Leon was beside him, offering his hand.

Johan could have cried in relief.

_It was over..._

Leon helped Johan up and brushed the sand off of his back. "Are you okay?" He asked him sternly. "What the hell were you doing? Out hunting this late on your own?"

Johan let out a sob, and Leon paused, pulling the boy closer. "What happened," he enquired, more gently. Johan glanced up, and saw Electra standing by, watching him nervously, and beside her was the very healthy and well recovered looking rebel that Michael had saved. He looked alert and angry, and was clutching a BL/Ind. custom ray gun in his right hand. The gun that had no doubt belonged to a recently fallen Draculoid, Johan reasoned.

Leon saw where Johan was looking, and he waved his hand in Billie's direction. "Johan, this is Billie Joe Armstrong."

"Hey," Billie snapped quickly. No time for pleasnatries.

Johan blinked. "You look okay now," he whispered.

Billie nodded. "Leon's drugs did their job," he replied, and then gave Leon an unreadable look.

Leon frowned, and then leaned closer to Johan. "Do you know where James is?"

Johan ducked his head. How could he answer that? How could he explain?

Billie stepped closer. "He asked you a question, kid. Where is Mikey?"

Johan's head snapped up. "Mikey?" He echoed.

Billie shrugged. "Leon told me you know him as 'James', but his real name is Mikey. Whatever you wanna call him, do you have any idea where he is?" He lowered his voice. "He's a great friend of mine, I need to see him again, need to know he's okay." There was desperation to the rebel's voice. "Please, can you help me?"

Johan was shaking. He gaped at Billie, trying to catch his breath, and then looked back toward Leon, whimpering as the horrors he had faced that night finally caught up with him.

"Viper and the others," he hissed, his voice breaking. "They've got him." There was pure agony etched on his face. "I've been so stupid, Leon. I'm sorry-"

Billie edged closer. "How do you know? How did they get him?"

Johan whimpered. In a tiny voice, he replied, after a moment's hesitation. "I took him to them."

Billie erupted. "_You fucking did what_?"

Terrified by his fury, Johan scrambled away from him, closer to Leon. "I'm sorry, I was stupid. I thought he was the bad guy-"

"Where are they?" Leon questioned, his tone grim.

Johan couldn't take anymore. He swayed on his feet, finding it hard to breath. The world was spinning, and everything was becoming dimmer...

And then he was falling.

Before Leon or Electra could react, Billie was there, catching Johan, preventing him from hitting the ground. Once he was satisfied the young man was able to speak, he grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him closer.

Angrily, he snarled one word in his ear: _"Where?"_

XXX

Gerard led Bandit by the hand to the small room Shona had suggested, knowing that the young girl was exhausted and badly needing some rest. Walking down the dark corridor, he cast a quick glance at her, only able to see her outline and again disbelief hit him when he realised she really was there, really was walking beside him. He thought he'd lost her.

He felt like he'd been given a second, maybe even third, chance. And he was not going to mess up again.

He couldn't bring Lindsey back. But there was a part of her living on inside Bandit, inside the daughter she had treasured. Gerard would protect Bandit with his life. He was never letting her go again.

Finally, they arrived at the end of the walkway, and Gerard pushed open the door, gesturing for Bandit to enter. She did so, Gerard following close behind her. He felt for the switch, found in, and turned it on. Light flooded the room, causing Bandit to grimace from the sudden discomfort. Gerard saw that they were in the last room of what had once been a very old farm house, and a door leading to what Gerard presumed had once been the back yard was in the corner of the room.

He was glad of it. At least Bandit had a quick exit possible, if the unexpected were to happen. Gerard knew only too well that you could never be too careful.

Bandit had already made her way over to a pile of blankets by the far wall. Gerard walked over to her, helping her organise the covers so she could lie down and finally get some sleep.

He pulled a sheet over her, and she snuggled down, extreme tiredness already coming over her, now that she had finally put her head down.

"Can you stay with me?" She whispered, reaching out to grip his hand.

"I've got to get back to Ray and the others, baby." He told her softly, squeezing her hand. "Shona will be along soon though, she'll keep your company until the meeting is over, and then I'll be right back with you, okay?"

Bandit nodded, though there was a sad look in her eyes that it hurt Gerard to see. He kissed her cheek, and stroked her hair. "I need you to be a brave girl for me, yeah?" He looked deeply into her eyes. "I'm not leaving you again, Bandit. I'm never leaving you."

She smiled at him, resting her head against his chest. Finally, he pushed her down gently, pulling the covers up to her neck.

"Go to sleep, sugar," he muttered. "I'll see you again when you wake up."

Giving her one last smile, he turned then, and made his way toward the door. Just as he reached it, her tiny voice broke the silence once more.

"Dad?" Bandit whispered. "I'm scared."

"Go to sleep, sweetheart," Gerard replied, turning slightly to face toward the window, looking out into the never ending darkness. "You need some rest. You must be about ready to collapse. We'll talk again when you-"

"Are we gonna meet up with Mom soon?"

Gerard stopped. He didn't know what to say.

So, he made it easier for himself.

"I'm not sure, baby. Soon, hopefully."

"Dad..."

"Bandit, I really do have to get back to the others now..."

"Can you sing to me?"

Her voice was so quiet, so needy, that it damn well nearly shattered his heart into a million pieces. He turned back to find that she was sat upright in bed once again, watching him hopefully.

After a moment, she added, "I remember that you used to sing me to sleep and when you did, I didn't feel scared any more. Can you do it now?" She glanced down, a small tinge of red appearing in her cheeks. "I don't like the dark."

"None of us do," he replied softly. "That was a long time ago I used to sing to you, Bee. Things are different now. I don't know that I can-"

"Please?" She beseeched him, her eyes wide and teary. "Just a quick song, like you used to?" She closed her eyes. "Make all the monsters go away?"

He swallowed hard. He walked to her slowly, and then perched himself on the end of her bed. "One song," he whispered, "and that's it."

She smiled at him, satisfied. "Thanks Daddy."

He searched his memories, trying to find a suitable song from his past, one that would aid Bandit into the peaceful sleep she so desperately needed. He could imagine how sad and painful her dreams had been since Lindsey had left her with Shona. Perhaps even before that, back to when he had walked out of her life?

He cleared his hoarse, burning throat, grimacing from the sharp pain. His throat was so dry; he could have done with some water before attempting this. But Bandit wasn't concerned about how he sounded. All she wanted was to hear her daddy's voice. The voice she had heard in her dreams. And how could he refuse her that?

Leaning closer, he began to sing. He was amazed at how, once again, the lyrics just seemed to rush back to him. As if he had never truly forgotten them:

" _These are the eyes and the lies of the taken  
These are their hearts but their hearts don't beat like ours"_

She let out a heavy sigh, her expression content as he sang on:

" _They burn 'cause they are all afraid  
For every one of us, there's an army of them"_

He stroked her hair away from her forehead, his voice growing louder as the emotion of both the moment and the song swept over him.

"_But you'll never fight alone  
Cause I wanted you to know"_

She had closed her eyes, but he didn't stop. He would sing her to sleep – make sure she knew that she was protected and that she was loved. And he would never let her down again.

" _That the world is ugly  
But you're beautiful to me  
Well are you thinking of me now?"_

She was comfortable, and she was happy. He leaned forward and kissed her hair, and she grumbled softly, disappointed that he had stopped. He laughed gently, and then sang to her once more, noting again how her whole form seemed to relax as his voice rang out again:

" _These are the nights and the lights that we fade in  
These are the words but the words aren't coming out"_

Her breathing was softer now, easier. He knew she was drifting off, so he took her hand and squeezed it. He knew she needed that reassurance, needed to know that he was still there, right beside her and not going anywhere.

Lowering his voice once again, he kept on singing.

" _They burn 'cause they are hard to say  
For every failing sun, there's a morning after"_

She was sleeping soundly now, her little chest rising and falling. She was peaceful at last, and he knew he was free to leave her to rest. He leaned forward, looking down on her with awe. He still couldn't believe it, couldn't accept that his daughter was really there with him. He moved even closer, and kissed her forehead.

His voice was nothing but a whisper now, as he sang to her once more:

" _Though I'm empty when you go  
I just wanted you to know _

_That the world is ugly  
But you're beautiful to me" _

With a sigh, he stood, still gazing down upon his resting child. He didn't want to leave her side, not for a second, but he knew the others were waiting for him, knew he had work to do. His instinct to protect Bandit, to stay by her side and never leave her, was so strong. He would keep her safe at all costs; she was his whole world now. That was the least he owed her, owed to Lindsey.

She looked so much like her mom. And it was more than that. She had her mom's spirit, her grace, and her strength. How else would she have survived all alone up to then? Gerard glanced away, suddenly consumed by the guilt he felt for walking away from both of them. He thought he was keeping them safe when he had left that night, but he hadn't. BL/I had come for him anyway. They had taken his daughter and had eventually killed his wife.

The company had broken him. Picked him apart until there was nothing left. And now, they had also stolen his brother and his lover.

He looked away, toward the window, and his eyes widened in surprise when he realised that the heavens had opened and heavy rain was lashing down upon the desert. He frowned, stepping closer, eyeing the rain closely. To his amazement, he saw that this was not the typical acid shower that tended to fall on the Zones since the bombs. No, this was simply rain, just water, falling from the sky. A storm, like in the old days. He walked cautiously to the door, and pulled it open, staring, awestruck, at the raging weather before him. Lightening crashed above, and rolling thunder boomed out all around him. After a moment's hesitation, he stepped out into the rain, his arms outstretched, his eyes closed, and he was instantly drenched, his shirt soaked to his skin. It felt incredible, as if he was being cleansed. It had been so long since it had rained out in the Zones, he couldn't actually remember the last time.

He laughed as he raised his arms above his head and was suddenly struck by the thought:

_Were Mikey and Frank out in the rain too?_

He saw them as they had been, a memory flashing back to him:

_All four of them, standing side by side, as the rain and hail fell, soaking the crowd before them. He looked over at Frank, who looked crazed and intense, and the brunette grinned euphorically at him, before he began to spin on the spot, waving his guitar in all directions. Mikey was smiling, enjoying Frank's insanity. He walked toward them, microphone in hand, and the excitement building within him..._

_Frank winked at him. Moved toward him…_

And then he and Mikey were gone.

The stage was gone, the lights, and the crowd. Gerard was back there in the desert, in the rain. Mikey and Frank had been taken from him, and he didn't know how to get them back.

He did the only think he could think of doing in that moment. He carried on singing, yelling the words from the past up at the raging sky, shouting his anger, and his hate, and his helplessness into that blackness. The storm was fuming along with him and, for a few precious moments, he felt like he was being comforted.

He sang, getting louder as the context of the lyrics took on a whole new meaning for him.

" _Are you thinking of me?  
Like I'm thinking of you?"_

Tears streamed down his face and his hands balled into fists as he continued to shout those words at the top of his voice.

" _I would say I'm sorry, though  
Though I really need to go  
I just wanted you to know"_

He slipped to his knees, still staring up, singing to his mom and dad, to Lindsey, to Pedicone, and Bert and Gareth and Billie, to everyone he had loved and lost:

"_I wanted you to know_

_I wanted you to know"_

He saw Frank and Mikey, and he reached out, as if he could grab his memories and hold them close.

" _I'm thinking of you every night, every day." _

He covered his face with his hands as the emotions became too much. He thought he could hear someone shouting his name, yelling at him to get inside, but he took no notice. He simply continued to sing, because right at that moment, that was all he could do. He couldn't save Mikey or Frank, or bring Lindsey and Bert back. All he could do was sing and nothing was going to take _that_away from him.

" _These are the eyes and the lies of the taken!  
These are their hearts but their hearts don't beat like ours"_

He shot his fist up into the air repeatedly, screaming now, letting all of his hate, and pain, and humiliation out into the thunder storm. The energy and the fire within him, he gave it all away. A war of the past and the present, of the man he was, and the man he had become. Everything Korse had done, everything he had been put through, he let go of it all. And he had never felt so free.

" _They burn 'cause they are all afraid  
When mine beats twice as hard..."_

He had been so immersed in the power and release that he had felt, he was completely unprepared when hands suddenly grabbed him around his middle, and began to drag him backwards, back towards the base. He fought against the unknown person's hold, shouting his outrage, trying to get free.

"Gerard," a voice hissed in his ear. "What the _fuck_are you doing?"

He knew that voice. Gerard stopped fighting, and allowed himself to go limp in the other's arms. He was half dragged, half carried toward the light of the open doorway, and then thrown inside, where he landed with a bump on the wooden flooring. Grunting in pain, he looked up to see Bandit awake and sat bolt upright on her bed, staring at him in fear and horror, her breathing harsh. He stared at her, slowly coming back to his senses. Shit. He had left her, alone and unprotected, and gone out into the night, leaving the door wide open. If she had run out after him...

He took a step toward her and she recoiled, unsure. He couldn't blame her. She had just seen her father, the father she hadn't seen in years, go mad right before her eyes. He shook his head, and then buried his face in his hands. Hearing the door slamming behind him, he turned quickly to see Ray, his expression a mixture of confusion and anger, standing by the door. He heard footsteps to his left and a quick glance confirmed for him that Bob was by the exit which led further into the base. And both men were staring at Gerard as if he had lost his mind.

He could understand. He had walked out into apparent acid rain wearing only jeans and a shirt. He had then stood out there in that storm and sung at the top of his voice. Of course they thought he had lost it.

But they were wrong. He hadn't lost anything. On the contrary, he'd found something. Himself.

Ray moved toward him carefully, no wonder expecting Gerard to flip. But it wasn't going to happen. He felt calm, calmer than he had done for a long, long time. And he knew what he was going to do.

"What was that all about, Gee?" Ray asked him, cautiously. "You never go out at night alone and unarmed, you know that."

"It was real, proper rain, Ray," Gerard replied. "I hadn't seen it for a long time. I wanted to go out there. It was fine."

Bob snorted. "He's fucking lost it, man."

Ray waved a hand, shushing his old band mate. He tried again, still speaking to Gerard as if he believed he would snap at any moment. "You left Bandit alone! If she'd gone after you..."

"I KNOW!" Gerard exclaimed quickly. "I _know_it was wrong, but it was what I needed, Ray."

Ray went to reply, but Bob, raising an eyebrow, got in there first. "What _you_needed? To go out into the rain and sing a little song, while leaving the base vulnerable? Fucking_swell_. "

Gerard spun round, and fixed Bob with a cold glare. He then walked back over to Bandit, taking her hand and kissing it. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart." He told her. "It's all okay. Daddy's all good now." He stroked her hair gently. "Everything is gonna be fine, I promise."

As she lay back down, somewhat pacified by his words and touches, Gerard then turned back to Ray, and jerked his head, telling the man to leave. Ray obeyed at once, indicating for Bob to follow suit. Bob, frowning and shaking his head in annoyance, went on ahead; turning his back on Gerard, and marching from the room, with Ray and then finally Gerard, after giving his daughter one last concerned look, following behind him.

Once they were in the corridor, and Gerard had carefully closed the door behind him, he turned to his two friends.

"I need you both to listen to me-"

Bob cut across him. "I guess it was a bad idea to give you the room with a back door-"

"Shut the fuck up, Bob, and listen TO ME!" Gerard hissed.

Bob shot a glance at Gerard, and his eyes narrowed, but he didn't speak again.

Gerard continued. "I know you're worried about me, but you don't need to be. Not now. My head is clear and I know what we've gotta do."

"We'll get Frank back, Gerard-" Ray began, but Gerard interrupted him.

"Yeah, we will, and we'll find Mikey. We'll find him and undo everything those bastards did to him." His eyes flashed. "But it's more than that. With the Co-ordinator dead, and Jimmy in charge of the place, we'll never have a better chance."

"Chance of what?" Bob asked, eyeing Gerard nervously.

"Chance to make a difference," Gerard retorted. "And I think I know how we can do that."

Ray and Bob exchanged uncertain looks.

"This again," Bob snapped. "Jesus fucking Christ."

Gerard glared at them both impatiently.

"I've fucking had enough of people messing with us," he announced. "If Jimmy hurts Frank, he's dead." He balled his hands into fists. "If any fucker has laid a finger on Mikey out in those Zones, they are gonna fucking_pay_. It all ends; here and now. We're gonna make them take notice of us again, and this time, we can actually fucking _win_."

"Gee," Ray said quietly, "If you're talking about a full on attack on the City, it'll never work. We don't have anywhere near enough people here to-"

"I know that, Ray." Gerard snapped. "Right now, we don't. But what about the rebels spread all over the Zones? There are bases like this across them all, right?"

Ray blinked. "Well, yeah, but..."

"We've always been fighting apart, mainly in small groups, but never together. There was the fight in that town-"

"And we lost a lot of good people that day," Ray reminded him. "People will be nervous about trying something like that again."

Gerard rolled his eyes in frustration. "That rescue mission didn't work out, I know that. But what if we had more time to plan a proper assault? What if we had someone to bring us all together?"

"Who?" Bob said. His eyes were blazing. "_You_?"

As Ray tilted his head, obviously contemplating that Bob's sarcastic response might not be so ridiculous, Gerard turned on his old drummer, his patience apparently at an end.

"No," He threw at him. "I don't mean me. But I do know the man that could make it happen." He nodded, when he saw the understanding flicker across their faces, and then Gerard gestured down the hallway. "Let's go and see the Doc."

XXX

As the rain crashed noisily down upon the barn, Michael's suffering seemed to be a never-ending cycle of torture and humiliation. After Viper had finished taking Michael apart piece by piece, he had offered the broken man to Skull and Jex and his two friends had taken up their opportunity with delighted relish, both taking their turns with Michael as he lay there, helpless at their feet. Skull had gone before his brother, pining Michael cruelly beneath him as he had forced his way inside the trembling man, glorifying in every cry, ever whimper of pain his actions gained. Michael knew Skull was just as sadistic is Viper, but was also a follower, a quiet, unassuming thug who was happy to stand in the background, obey instructions, and take what he was given. And he had taken without mercy. Michael was in more pain than he would ever have believed possible. And the worst thing was, while the attack was happening, that nagging, spiteful voice in his ear, the one whispering that he deserved every humiliation, every agony that was bestowed upon him, it was his own doing. He'd murdered so many innocents, it was only right that he was made to face up to his past.

And now, as Jex stood over him, with the same cold smile, the same evil smirk, he knew he could expect no more pity from the youngest of the three than he had been given by the others. As Jex surged forward, laughing as Michael's whole body jarred, taking great pleasure as he cried out in anguish, the others laughed and jeered as they looked on. They added to his shame, making lewd, mocking comments about him and his past, about the Killjoys, and how even if his old friends could see him now, they would turn away in disgust at the whore he had been turned into.

Viper crouched down beside the writhing Michael, sitting unsettlingly close, his hand brushing the hair out of the former Exterminator's eyes, and smiling at the effect his soft caresses had on his one-time proud victim. His touch was turning Michael's stomach, and he found himself as desperate to pull away from Viper as he was the man violating him.

But he couldn't escape any of them. He was trapped.

Trapped by their hate.

And maybe even more by his own…

Viper leaned ever closer, to whisper in Michael's ear as Jex continued his unrelenting assault.

"If you do make it out of here alive, and that's a big IF, you're never _ever_ gonna be the same after this, are you, pretty?" He sneered. "I can see it in your eyes, even now, after what we've reduced you to. This has changed you forever. You thought you were so special. So perfect and gifted and _precious_ to that company. You assumed that you could do whatever the hell you wanted and get away with it, didn't you, _Michael_. Well, guess what, sweetness? This is the real world, and the real world doesn't work like that..."

Michael closed his eyes tightly.

Viper smirked.

"Does that help? Close your eyes, cross your fingers, count to ten, and maybe it will all go away? No, baby. I'm not going anywhere. You're starting to get it, aren't you, Exterminator? This is all you are, all you're ever gonna be. A piece of worthless ass for me and my boys here to play with and to throw away when we've had our fill. A Killjoy? Don't make me laugh. _You belong to me_."

His last words were hissed as Jex suddenly let out a loud exclamation and shot his load into the body trapped beneath him. Michael turned his head to the side, away from Viper and Skull, who was once more happy to stay in the background, silent but always watching, never missing a beat. Jex was breathing hard, still holding on to Michael's hips, until finally, with a whoop and a cry of delight, he released his hold and stood, giving Michael a sly kick in the groin for good measure.

"Thanks, darling." He drawled, apparently very pleased with himself. "That was fucking great!"

They all backed off then, leaving him to curl up into a protective ball, as they discussed excitedly together what it was like to "fuck" the BL/Ind. scum. The whole situation was so exciting, so gratifying for them. They saw this as a victory, their little group getting one over on the huge company that had wrecked their existences. To destroy one of BL/Ind's most celebrated Exterminator's was a big triumph for the rebel movement. And they were basking in it.

"We'll be treated like fucking idols!" Viper was telling the others, with much enthusiasm. "They'll be telling stories about us all over the Zones. We'll be as famous as the fucking Killjoys!"

Michael couldn't help but laugh at that. He was truly surprised that they couldn't see the irony.

Viper looked over at him, his eyebrow raised. "Something amusing?"

"You talk about the Killjoys as if you still admire them."

"So?"

"Didn't anyone tell you? I was a Killjoy. You've fucked one of your own, Viper. And somebody out there won't be happy with you about it."

Viper was next to him again then, and Michael couldn't help but flinch as the hated man prodded his broken body with his boot.

"The company murdered the Killjoy you used to be when they created you, pretty. If any rebel does come after us, I think it'll be to thank us, not to kill us-"

"When are you going to get it through your thick head?" Michael spat. Though every part of him was burning inside, the pain almost becoming too much, a final spark of defiance had been re-awakened. Perhaps it was the mention of the Killjoys? Michael wasn't sure. One thing he did know, he wasn't about to go out with a whimper. He glared up at the now bristling Viper. "I'm not the Exterminator that killed your family any more. I broke my conditioning, which made me free of them. You've gained _nothing_!"

Viper's smile was one of pure evil. "I wouldn't say that, pretty."

Michael stared up at him, unable to move. Every part of him was hurting. He had been defiled, used as a plaything, and he had allowed it to happen. He was nothing. There was nothing left of the Exterminator now, that was sure, but there was nothing else in there either. He was empty, defeated. A bottomless pit of nothing.

And now he knew. He wanted to die.

When he felt a warm, teasing hand on his thigh, his eyes shot open once again, and he looked down at his legs once more, his heart sinking when he saw that Skull was once more bending down over him, a vicious smirk on his lips.

"Can I play?" Skull asked Viper. "Let's see how in control our little Exterminator Killjoy here actually is?"

Viper paused for a moment, and then smiled warmly. "Be my guest," he whispered.

Michael let out a low moan, and tried to close his legs, only for them to be gripped again in a bruising grip.

Pulling Michael's legs apart even further, Skull took hold of the whimpering man's flaccid cock, and began to stroke it. The sudden unexpected feeling took Michael by surprise, and his eyes snapped open. He stared, wide-eyed, down at the man now placed between his legs, and let out a low sob.

He'd expected more pain, more torture. Not that this wasn't a kind of torture, he was not far gone enough to not be able to see that they were playing yet more horrendous games with him, but this was a whole other level of abuse. This was about making him take pleasure in their actions, to ensure they ruined every little part of him before they finally gave him his freedom. And he knew what that freedom would mean, knew there was only one way this ordeal could end. It was to his despair that he realised he no longer cared. He just wanted to be free of them, free of the suffering, shame and the terror. He no longer saw his death as anything but a release. With his whole soul, he pined for it.

Smirking distastefully, and even going as far as licking his lips as he pulled Michael's throbbing cock out from the protection of his underwear, Skull leaned forward and quickly took him into his mouth. Michael couldn't prevent the startled cry that escaped from his mouth, and shame once again hit him like a brick when he was greeted by a chorus of jeers and cat calls from the on looking Viper and Jex. Skull himself, meanwhile, smirked around his cock, and then hummed, causing yet more horrible pleasure to course through Michael, and he writhed.

He knew what he must have looked like, as he squirmed in their grasps like a wanton hussy. He knew what they had turned him into.

He was their whore. And as he felt the familiar sensations gripping him, he knew that he wouldn't be able to last much longer.

"That's it, pretty," he heard Viper slur in his ear, as Skull speeded up, deep throating him, causing him to cry out repeatedly. "Give in to it."

Michael shuddered violently, his right arm raised and covering his eyes, silent tears streaming down his face as he did exactly as Viper ordered, and gave in to the devastating horror gripping him in it's evil embrace. Skull, grinning coldly as he watched him, grabbed Michael's knees, keeping him completely still as he finished him, sucking harshly as his victim released violently into his mouth. Michael's face contorted, flushing bright red with humiliation, the muscles of his arms and legs trembling uncontrollably as the full extent of his misery and shame hit him.

He felt cheap, used.

They hadn't just raped him, defiled him in the worst way possible. They had also taken great pleasure in ensuring he enjoyed his shame too.

And that had been the undoing of him.

Ensuring that all aftershocks had left the now trembling man, Skull released Michael, and leaned back at last, a small smile of satisfaction on his smug lips, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Michael was sobbing now. His body was wrecked with dry-heaving sobs, his breath uncontrollable as he broke down in front of them. They watched him, clearly delighting in what they had reduced him to. Not wanting to face his defilers for a moment longer, he forced himself to turn over on to his side, crying out and shaking with pain as he made slow progress, until he finally no longer had to look into their triumphant eyes.

Viper was laughing the loudest. "What's wrong, boy? Don't you wanna thank Skull?"

Michael said nothing. He couldn't deal with any more, couldn't handle any more torment.

_'Please.'_He pleaded, wordlessly. _'__Please let it end.'_

Viper's eyes flashed dangerously when Michael didn't respond. With a snarl, he dragged him up by his hair, still taking sadistic pleasure in the broken man's sobs and pathetic attempts to pull away. "Skull just did you a favour, pretty;" Viper continued, viciously. "Do the decent thing, and thank him."

Michael could stop himself no longer. He knew he could fall no lower, no matter what they did to him. He didn't have any pride left, they had taken everything. All he wanted was for it all to end, to spare himself any more agony. So, he gave in completely. Staring up at Viper with pleading eyes, he whispered; "Just finish it."

Viper stopped. With a triumphant glance to his friends, who were giving Michael the same questioning looks, he then yanked at Michael's sweat soaked hair, and pulled him closer. "What did you say, Exterminator?"

Michael closed his eyes in despair. His humiliation was complete. In a tiny voice, he replied, "Please. Just stop this. Just kill me."

Skull and Jex was smiling contentedly, their expressions satisfied. They'd done what they had set out to do. The Exterminator was finished. A broken man. Viper was smirking, his eyes sparkling. He had the air of an all-conquering hero. He placed his lips against Michael's cheek, and licked his tears away, before hissing. "Have you had enough, Pretty?"

The former Exterminator's tears continued, uncontrollable now. "I'm sorry," Michael whimpered; "For what I did to your family..."

Viper grabbed at him quickly, causing him to cry out. "You don't get to talk about my family. Not now, not ever. Understood?"

Michael nodded.

Viper seemed satisfied. He eyed Skull and Jex questionably, and they smirked in response. They had accomplished everything they had set out to do. It was time to finish the job.

Still gripping Michael, Viper dragged him up, forcing the naked, broken man to his knees. Once he had him positioned where he wanted him, Viper then again took hold of Michael's ray gun, and placed it against the Exterminator's head, preparing to pull the trigger. Michael stayed where he was, waiting for his life to end. He welcomed the blackness.

Viper let out a heavy sigh.

He had waited for this moment for so long, and now, here it was. With a cold smile, and a quick grin to his two excited friends, he whispered one sentence into Michael's ear.

"Any last words?"

Michael closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He wouldn't draw this out any longer, neither would he add any further to his three killers' triumph over him. He just wanted this to be over.

And then he heard the whisper, and it changed everything.

"_Mikey?"_

Michael didn't react at once. It took him a moment to realise that it wasn't Viper that had spoken the name. After a pause, he carefully opened his eyes and saw that Viper was still crouched down beside him, holding the ray gun a mere hair's length away from Michael's head. It seemed as though his tormentor was frozen in time. Michael knew what was happening; he was having another of his flashbacks.

One last time.

And that was when he looked past the sneering man beside him, and saw the three figures standing just beyond him.

His heart skipped a beat. They'd come for him. He had always known somehow that they would, somewhere, deep inside. He'd never lost faith in them. And in his most desperate moment, they had come for him.

They were smiling at him, as they waited for him to join them. The red haired man was standing slightly in front of the other two, one taller than the other, with his big, curly hair. The smallest of the three winked at Michael, and gestured with his head, indicating for him to go with them. The red head stepped ever nearer and then he was reaching out for Mikey, offering his hand.

" _Mikey._" He whispered again. "_Are you ready_?"

He smiled back at them. And in that tiny instant, he knew who they were. More importantly, he knew what they were to _him_.

He didn't have his memories; he still couldn't remember being Mikey Way.

But he damned well knew where he _belonged._

He blinked. And then, in a flash, they were gone.

And he was back there, in that torture hole, waiting to die. His body was trembling, he was in more pain than he would have believed humanely possible a few hours before, but now the fear and shame had been replaced by new sensations: Calm and hope.

"I'm waiting!" He heard Viper growl, and felt the bastard's grip tighten. "Any last words of wisdom?"

Michael turned his head, and looked directly at Viper.

"Three, actually."

Viper tilted his head. "This should be good. Go ahead, pretty."

Michael let out a deep breath. His voice cracking under the strain, he spoke the only words that mattered in that moment.

"_My..."_

He fought to stand up straight.

"_Chemical..."_

He knew this was important, though he didn't know why.

"_Romance."_

He looked up, staring directly into Viper's eyes. And he managed a broken smile.

Viper seemed at a loss. He furrowed his brow, confused, and then exchanged glances with the others. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Michael said nothing. What could he say? He didn't know the answer.

Viper eyed him, bewildered.

Jex shook his head, while Skull shrugged.

"Who gives a fuck?" He told Viper. "End this, buddy. We're done here."

Viper smirked. "My pleasure."

Michael held Viper's gaze. He would not look away. He would die proud.

Viper's finger covered the trigger...

The shout came from outside. And it made all four of the occupants of the barn jump.

" Viper! Get out here! "

Viper started violently, releasing his hold on Michael and allowing him to fall to the floor. The Scavenger leader spun round quickly.

"What the fuck?"

Jex had already moved to window, and glanced out. "Leon is out there, Viper. He's got Johan and Electra, and some guy with him. They've got torches."

Viper frowned.

"They could burn this place down to the ground if we don't answer them."

Skull shook his head. "They're fucking wimps. They'd never-"

"They could." Viper interrupted him. He pulled Michael up, and threw him towards Jex.

"Hold onto him," he told the boy. "I wanna find out what this is all about. If I wave to you, bring him out."

"Sure," Jex said, at once.

Satisfied, Viper turned his attention to Skull, tossing him Michael's gun. "Cover me, buddy. We can't trust them."

Skull caught the gun deftly, and nodded. "I'm on it. Be careful though."

Viper nodded and then, steeling himself, he opened the door, and stepped outside.

"Leon!" Viper exclaimed, taking a step towards his old friend. His triumph and delight was obvious but Leon was visibly sickened. "What brings you here, buddy?"

"You know why we're here-" Leon begun, but Viper cut across him.

"I can guess. You've come to save your little Exterminator buddy, haven't you?"

"Where the fuck is he!" Billie shouted, surging forward, and being grabbed by Johan.

Viper was evidently amused. "Hey, look at that. The rebel is back from the dead." He chuckled. "And he apparently is worried about the Exterminator." He shook his head. "This world is fucked up-"

Billie Joe had heard enough. "Leon, you tell your fucking boy here to let Mikey go if he knows what's good for him." His voice cracked with his anger. "Now…"

Before Leon could answer, Viper raised a confused eye brow. "Mikey?" He blinked, the volume of his voice increasing in mock surprise. "Who the fuck is _Mikey_? "

He looked over his shoulder, and indicated with his hand. Skull appeared in view, dragging the bloodied and beaten, and very naked, Michael along with him. Viper smirked as he moved to stand beside Michael, grabbing the distraught man and pulling him forward. "Oh, is this who you mean? This piece of Better Living shit? My little whore?" He released Michael, who fell painfully to the ground, letting out a distressed cry of pain. Viper then gripped Michael by his hair and pulled his head up, forcing him to look at the friends that had come to save him. "Is this what you came all that way for? Tell you the truth, Leon; you shouldn't have bothered."

The others could only stare at the sorry state Michael was in, their expressions displaying their repulsion.

Viper, however, looked delighted.

"I'll tell you one thing about our little Exterminator, Leon. He was fucking good."

All of their reactions were instant.

Leon turned away, utterly disgusted. Electra stepped closer to Johan, who was staring at Michael in absolute horror. The guilt he was experiencing was threatening to break him.

Billie Joe was glaring daggers as he took in the cruel words, coupled with the horrendous state of his friend.

Hands balled into fists, he took a careful step forward.

"You fucking piece of scum…"

Viper laughed coldly, and then threw Michael to the ground, where he stayed, unmoving. "You want him?" The gloating man hissed to Leon. "You can have him. He's finished anyway."

They only hesitated for a moment, before Johan, Billie, Leon and Electra all rushed forward, each one of them desperate to help the injured man. Leon got there first, falling to his knees beside Michael's head, and quickly pressing two fingers against his neck. To his relief, he found a pulse, and nodded grimly to Billie Joe. "He's alive."

"We gotta get him back to the camp!" Johan snapped. "It's not safe out in the open."

Leon nodded. He had pulled off his overcoat, and had placed it over Mikey's trembling, naked body. "Help me lift him, but be as gentle as you can."

Electra stood back slightly, her mouth covered by her hands as she took in the extent of Michael's injuries. She watched Leon and Johan lift Michael, and after one last quick look of hate at Viper and his cronies, they began to carry the wounded man away.

"Better hurry," Viper called. "Doesn't look like he's got long left!" He then cackled cruelly, revelling in the pain and agony he had caused that night.

Leon paused, and threw him a cold glare. "You bastard."

Viper gave him a small bow. "He had it coming, Leon. You know he did."

"No," Billie muttered, and everyone's attention was suddenly focused on him. He raised his eyes, and gave Viper a death stare. "You're gonna fucking pay for what you've done."

Viper laughed. Skull and Jex chortled behind him. "That so?" Viper taunted. "Just who the fuck are you, anyway?"

Billie Joe could not take another word. He stormed forward, coming to a halt right in front of Viper, and leaned in close to him, his eyes boring into the other man's. Viper raised a hand, preventing Skull and Jex from attacking the stranger.

"Who am I?" Billie spat. "I'm Billie Joe _fucking_Armstrong and I can promise you, you piece of shit, that you are gonna fucking regret this day. You are a fucking dead man walking. _You_ and your little friends too. So enjoy this while you can, fucker. Cos you're the one who hasn't got a lot of time left."

"Am I supposed to be scared?" Viper retorted, smirking back at Billie. "You can hardly fucking stand, pal. What are you gonna do?"

Billie glowered. "Me? Nothing," he replied. "It's not me you should be worried about. You fucked with a Killjoy-"

"Actually," Viper cut in, leering at Billie, "My boys and me didn't just fuck _with_ the Killjoy, we seriously got to fuck his pretty little tight ass too!"

Billie ignored their cat calls and whoops of delight, lowering his voice to a cold whisper. "Some people are gonna be coming for you, _pal_. I'd watch your back." He raised his head, and his gaze swept over Skull and Jex. "All of you."

Viper stared at Billie, trying to force the other man to look away first. The standoff lasted a few more seconds before finally Leon's concerned voice broke the silence.

"Billie! We have to move now!"

"Go on then," Viper hissed. "Go save your boy."

"See you again," Billie stated. And then he turned his back on Viper and the rest, and left them behind, hurrying after Leon and the others. He caught them up, and then fell down to one knee, his arm wrapped around his chest for comfort.

"You need to rest!" Leon told him.

Billie shook his head. "Don't worry about me. What about Mikey? Is he gonna be okay?"

Leon gestured helplessly. "I don't know."

Electra grabbed Leon's hand. "Let's get him back to the camp. We have medical supplies there."

They all looked at her. None of them needed to speak, it was clear that they were all thinking the same thing.

_'__He's beyond our help.'_

Billie, though, would not give up. He'd never give up. Not after what happened to Tre.

He jerked his head at his new friends.

"Let's get moving."

TBC


End file.
